


Leap of Faith

by Penny_P



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_P/pseuds/Penny_P
Summary: A time-traveler is a harbinger of big decisions and big changes for the crew of Voyager, especially its Captain.





	1. Prologue

During the 5th Year in the Delta Quadrant

  
It was quite possibly the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Kathryn Janeway stared at the red, glowing maelstrom that was the opening of a wormhole and could not help herself. Scientific phenomena should be appreciated for what they are and not categorized based on appearance, but this was ugly.

It might also be their ticket home.

"Status of the probe?" she asked.

From the Astrometrics Lab, B’Elanna Torres replied, "Still no telemetry, Captain. We’re trying to find the problem."

Suddenly the wormhole seemed to get even angrier, and almost writhe. Then, without warning, something hurtled out of the opening. It was dark and flat and bore no resemblance at all to anything she had ever seen before.

Before she could say anything, three voices spoke at once. From Astrometrics, B’Elanna exclaimed in disbelief, "It spit it out!" Seven, also in Astrometrics and clearly puzzled, said, "The probe has been damaged," and from the Ops station, Harry Kim said, "That’s what’s left of our probe, Captain."

"Magnify screen," Janeway said, "Let’s get a better look." In seconds, they could see that Harry had been right. The mangled, flattened, and charred debris was all that remained of a Class 2 probe. Paris let out a slow whistle of amazement.

"My gods," Chakotay said, "what could do that to duranium?"

Janeway’s heart sank. This was not going to be a way home after all; if thirty seconds in that wormhole could destroy a Class 2 probe, Voyager would not make it through. Wherever "through" led to – something she had been hoping the probe would tell them. "Damn," she muttered, just loud enough for Chakotay to hear, then added aloud, "Bring the probe on board, Commander. Let’s see if anything can be salvaged from it."

Seven’s voice cut in from Astrometrics. "Captain, the wormhole is active again."

"Screen," Janeway snapped, and the view screen returned to the long-range picture. Sure enough, the wormhole was glowing brighter than before and rotating wildly. "Back us off, Mr. Paris," she said cautiously.

They watched in silence as another object was ejected from the opening. This one was considerably larger than the probe and was spinning out of control. "What is that, Harry?" Janeway asked, but it was Tuvok who answered.

"It appears to be a Federation shuttlecraft," he said, frowning deeply.

"Confirmed," Harry said. "It’s a weird shield configuration, though. Life support and propulsion systems are off-line. Shields are at 50%."

"Life signs?" Chakotay asked quickly.

It took a moment for Harry to reply. "One human," he said, "but the life sign is very faint."

"Can you transport through the shields?" Janeway asked. A human in a Federation shuttle, she was thinking. Someone from the alpha quadrant?

"Negative," Harry said, with some frustration.

"Tractor beam," Janeway snapped. "Get that shuttle aboard."

"I’m picking up lethal levels of gamma, theta and lambda radiation," Tuvok said. "The shuttle should be decontaminated before bringing it on board."

“I don’t think that pilot has time for that," Harry said urgently.

Janeway looked at Chakotay. "Any food supplies or biologicals in Shuttle Bay 1?"

He shook his head. "No. Just equipment."

"We can decontaminate the whole place later then. Get that shuttle on board, Mr. Paris. Commander, Mr. Tuvok, get a hazmat crew together and get that pilot to Sickbay."

*  
Twenty minutes later, Chakotay and Tuvok materialized in Sickbay; Tuvok was carrying an unconscious female and Chakotay held a teddy bear. The Doctor, Tom Paris and Seven of Nine were waiting for them. "You’re in a containment field," the Doctor informed them, stepping in to join them. "Please do not move until we complete decontamination procedures."

While Paris and Seven worked the controls, the field suddenly shimmered a rosy pink. The Doctor did not wait for the procedure to finish before beginning to check the patient with a medical tricorder. "Severe radiation poisoning," he said, "ruptured spleen, internal bleeding, cracked ribs. Mr. Paris, prepare for surgery as soon as we deal with the radiation."

The decontamination field faded and shivered away, and Chakotay’s vision cleared. Tuvok carried the pilot to the biobed and gently set her down. Long dark hair fell back from her face and Chakotay, who had not had a good look at her in the cargo bay in the rush to get her to Sickbay, was sad to see that she had suffered radiation burns on her face and hands. Even so, it was obvious she was very young, possibly a teenager. Well, he thought, that might explain the teddy bear.

As they laid her on the biobed, the Doctor called for 15 cc of micklozine, which Paris handed him. "All right," the Doctor said, "we’ll begin the surgery as soon as that takes effect," he said. "Seven, please double check the Commanders and make certain there is no residual contamination. Mr. Paris will assist – "

Suddenly the girl on the biobed began gasping for air and convulsing. "Allergic reaction," the Doctor said calmly. "Mr. Paris—"

"20 ccs antrophylline," Paris said, handing him a hypospray. The Doctor administered the injection and almost immediately the girl resumed normal breathing. "Well, we’ll have to try something else. Visyllase, I think. 50ccs." He looked at the two bridge officers, still standing on either side of the biobed in hazmat suits. Chakotay was holding the girl’s teddy bear. "Please go with Seven," the Doctor said. "I’ll keep you informed of her condition."

Chakotay set the bear in the Doctor’s office on his way out with Tuvok. He thought the girl might want it later. For now, they had a shuttle to examine.

*

Half an hour later, Chakotay called the Captain in her ready room from the Cargo Bay. "The shuttle has been decontaminated," he reported. "It took a little longer than we expected – it was exposed to tremendous amounts of gamma and theta radiation.”

"Is it a Federation shuttle?"

He sounded bemused. "It’s not just a Federation shuttle. It’s one of ours. The Amundsen."

She swiveled in her chair and looked in the direction of the Cargo Bay, as if she could see for herself. "But – isn’t the Amundsen—"

"In Shuttle Bay 3, right where it’s supposed to be," he confirmed. "I can’t explain it, Captain, but we appear to have two versions of the same shuttle." After a pause, he added, “You won’t confuse them, though. This one looks like it’s been in a battle. The wormhole really beat it up.”

“On my way.” She was frowning by the time she entered the turbolift. She couldn’t come up with an explanation for the duplicate shuttle – at least, not yet – but she had a feeling that she wasn’t going to like it when they did find the answer.

*

Ninety minutes after the young pilot had been brought on board, Seven summoned the Captain and Chakotay to Astrometrics. She had finished her analysis on the mangled probe they had sent into the wormhole and correlated its data to some from the duplicate Amundsen. "It is not a true wormhole," Seven explained, bringing up a schematic on the screen. "It is an unknown phenomenon, a vortex of radiation and energy flowing in a single direction."

Janeway looked at the screen. "A one-way street," she commented.

"If I understand the reference correctly, yes," Seven said.

"And we are at the exit, not the entrance," Chakotay noted, almost sadly.

"Exactly," Seven said. "That is why our probe made no progress. It was going against the current of the vortex. However, it appears the shuttle entered the vortex at its other end and apparently was swept along in the correct direction."

"Must have been a rough ride," Janeway mused.

Chakotay added, "Any idea how big that thing is?"

Seven nodded and picked up a padd. "The preliminary data from the shuttle indicates it is approximately 12,000 light years long."

The command officers stared at her. "12,000…" Janeway repeated slowly, then looked back at the schematic. "Are you sure there’s no way we can get through from here?"

"Doubtful," Seven said. "As you saw, the shuttle was nearly non-functional at egress, and I believe that the only reason it survived was its unusual shield configuration. Even that would not have been sufficient to counter the forces of going against the current."

The Captain looked almost longingly at the screen. "Keep looking. Twelve thousand light years – that’s a hell of a short cut if we can find a way to use it."

“Impossible,” Seven replied. “Even if we could force a change in direction, the radiation levels within the vortex are lethal.”

Kathryn felt an eyebrow raise. “The pilot made it.”

“I don’t know how,” Seven said bluntly. “The unusual shield configuration was designed to block as much radiation as possible, but even so, she must have been exposed to levels not compatible with life.”

“But she is alive,” Kathryn responded. “If we can find out how, we may be able to adapt it for Voyager.” She turned to go but stopped when she saw Chakotay’s expression. He, too, was staring at the schematic of the wormhole, but with a troubled expression. "Commander, you look like you have something on your mind?"

He nodded. "I was just wondering why that pilot was so desperate to come 12,000 light years in this direction, away from the Alpha Quadrant. Shields or not, it took a lot of courage to enter that thing in a shuttle."

Janeway looked again at the violent red maw of the vortex. "Hopefully, we’ll know the answer to that soon."

*  
It was another two hours before the Doctor told the Captain that the patient was ready to receive visitors. Tuvok asked to accompany her, and Janeway agreed. They met with the Doctor in his office first. "Well, Doctor," the Captain began, "how is out guest?”

“Comfortable,” he answered. “The surgery was a success and I have treated her burns. She is in no pain.”

“And is she Human?”

"Unquestionably," he replied. "There is no doubt that her DNA is entirely human. She is approximately seventeen years old and at some time in the past, she’s had her appendix removed, and she broke her left tibia and her right ulna. There’s also some evidence of previous hairline fracture of the skull. And of course, she is allergic to micklozine."

"Is that significant?" Janeway asked.

"Only to the extent that it confirms she is indeed Human," the Doctor commented. "It’s a fairly common Human allergy. Some fifteen percent of Voyager’s crew, including, as you know, yourself and Ensign Paris, have this allergy. However, it is an allergy that occurs only in Humans and is not known to occur in any other Alpha quadrant species."

"Has she told you anything about herself?" Tuvok asked.

"She hasn’t responded at all well to my bedside manner," the Doctor said, seeming a little miffed. "She asked me the date and time, and then just said that she ‘made it’ and smiled. That was when she asked to speak with one of you, or Commander Chakotay, by name. She won’t respond to any other questions from me."

Janeway patted his arm. "Try to not worry about it," she said. "I’m sure it’s just because she’s disoriented."

"There is one other thing you need to know, Captain," the doctor added, dropping his usual acid tone. "She was exposed to lethal levels of radiation. I was able to heal the burns, but the other symptoms of radiation poisoning are likely to manifest within 72 hours, and death is probable within 240 hours."

Janeway caught her breath. “You’re certain?”

He averted his eyes, unwilling to admit that he would lose a patient. "Yes. I..I haven’t told her yet."

Janeway looked toward the biobed and nodded. "She’s 17, you say? No, don’t tell her yet. Wait until the symptoms begin. Let her have as much time as she can without worrying about her own death. Who knows?" she added encouragingly. "Maybe you’ll think of something in the meantime."

They walked over to the ward, and found the girl was sitting up on the biobed, looking much better than when she had first come on board. Her face was damp from the regen gel and she seemed very young indeed, with large dark eyes that welled with tears when she saw the Captain approach. "Oh, my," she said softly, and swallowed hard. Wiping at her eyes, she said, "Oh, Captain Janeway, Commander Tuvok, it’s so good to see you again."

Janeway looked at her in surprise. "I don’t believe we’ve met before."

"Well, it’s my before, but your later," she said earnestly, as if that explained everything.

Tuvok’s expression was more disapproving than usual. "Can you explain that statement?"

"I’m from your future," she said earnestly, "and I’ve come to try to prevent a terrible mistake."

Tuvok’s eyebrow shot up and Janeway looked skeptical. Just the mention of time travel set her teeth on edge. "I didn’t know our shuttles were equipped for time travel," she said dryly.

The girl looked at her evenly. "They’re not. I came the old-fashioned way, Captain – a Kirk trajectory. That took care of the time differential. The only way I could make up the distance was a quick trip through that monster disguised as a wormhole."

The captain’s expression deepened to a frown. "Where did you learn that term?"

"Which term – oh, the ‘Kirk trajectory’? From your logs, Captain. You gave some consideration to trying it with Voyager not long after you were stranded here, to see if you could prevent the destruction of the Caretaker’s array. You concluded it was too risky." The girl smiled. "You always hated temporal anomalies."

Janeway regarded her in surprise. She had considered such an idea, very briefly, in the first month they were in the Delta quadrant, but she had mentioned it to no one. The only record of the idea was in her personal log. "Let’s back up a step," she said slowly. "You know our names, it seems, but we don’t know yours. Who are you?"

She hesitated for just a second. "Why don’t you call me Lucky? That’s the nickname given to me when I was little. Mr. Paris said I was dam- darned lucky that you didn’t push me out an airlock when I disrupted ship’s operations…which I’m afraid I did with some regularity."

"All right," Janeway said coolly, "but I had a little more in mind. Who exactly are you?"

Lucky took a breath. "I’m the daughter of two people who are currently on Voyager. I’ll be born about three years from now. Captain, my parents aren’t a couple yet and I’m afraid that if I tell you who they are, they won’t ever get together." She gave a self-deprecating smile. "Especially if they know that I am in their future." Then she leaned forward, her eyes large and sincere. "Captain, may I please tell you why I’ve come? There’s not much time."

"All right," Janeway nodded. She wasn’t giving up on her line of questioning, but it could wait.

Lucky looked relieved. "In about 3 hours, you are going to be hailed by a ship from the Tessari Coalition. They are a friendly people, and good trade relations are possible. The problem is, this ship – the Starwind, its called - is carrying a plague but they don’t know it. Within 24 hours of making contact with you, everyone on that ship will be dead. And if you have a face to face meeting with them during that time, everyone on Voyager will die, too."

"That is inconsistent," Tuvok pointed out. "If everyone on Voyager dies from this plague, you will not be born three years from now."

"I didn’t say that you die immediately," she clarified. "At first it will seem that the disease couldn’t be passed to Alpha quadrant species. Neelix will be the only one from the ship to die in the first weeks. But in Humans and other Alpha quadrant species, the disease goes dormant for seventeen years. Not even the Doc realized the crew was infected until it was too late. Everyone who was on the ship today died exactly seventeen years, four months and three days after exposure." She paused. "In my time, Captain, _Voyager_ is crewed by your children. And we’re in trouble. We can’t maintain the ship anymore, and no planet will have us. We’re a plague ship, the pariah of the quadrant, and we are all doomed to die before we turn eighteen."

Janeway stared at her in alarm. "Are you telling me you are infected now?"

"Don’t worry, Captain, it’s not contagious in its dormant state," Lucky assured her quickly. "I would never risk infecting this ship. And besides, the radiation in the Hellhole should have killed it."

The captain thoughtfully, not wanting to believe her and yet feeling somehow that Lucky was telling her the truth. Finally she said, "Who are you, Lucky?"

"I’m one of _Voyager’s_ children," Lucky replied, lifting her chin slightly. "Does my specific parentage really matter?"

"It would add to your credibility if we could corroborate your genetic makeup," Tuvok said.

Lucky faced him squarely. "Temporal. Prime. Directive,” she said, pronouncing each word as its own sentence. “You’ve got enough to confirm my story without knowing who my parents are. I ’m sure you’ve already got a team analyzing the shuttle I came in; you’ll find it’s the Amundsen, just about 20 years older than the one in your shuttle bay. You’ve got my uniform – you’ll be able to confirm it came from Voyager’s replicators. And check out the comm badge I was wearing. The Doc will tell you I am 100% human. Isn’t that enough?"

"Perhaps," Janeway said before Tuvok could reply. As she spoke, Lucky’s voice had gone up in pitch and the words came faster and faster; combined with her rigid posture, Kathryn recognized Lucky was close to losing control of her emotions. The DNA discussion could wait for a while. "We’ll start with those things and see what we find. In the meantime, the Doctor says you need to rest."

"Captain, you’ve got to believe me– and you have to get ready for the Starwind – if you do this right, you have a chance to establish a really beneficial trade relationship but if you don’t, they will hound you for years." Lucky looked stricken. "Please, I can help you, and I didn’t go through all this just to sit in Sickbay."

"I appreciate the offer, but you’ll sit here at least another hour," Janeway said. "By that time, we should have some preliminary reports back, and we’ll see."

Lucky reached for the teddy bear on the bed beside her and lay back, closing her eyes. It was probably the stuffed animal, but suddenly she looked much younger and more vulnerable. Without thinking, Janeway reached out and laid a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder.

*  
Satisfied that his patient was resting, if not actually sleeping, the Doctor returned to his office to dictate his notes on the case. It really was intriguing, and one which could ultimately result in a published paper back in the Alpha Quadrant.

For several minutes he was focused on his work, but then he heard a sound from the main ward. Concerned that Lucky was trying to move about, he left the office to check on her, and then stopped short.

It wasn’t Lucky who was moving about. It was… himself. The Emergency Medical Hologram.

“What-?” he said, startled. “Who -?”

The other EMH, standing near one of the main consoles, looked up. “Sorry,” was all he said, and tapped a control.  
_ Voyager’s_ Doctor blinked out of sight.  
*

The senior staff assembled in the conference room an hour later. "Well?" Janeway asked. "What do we know about our guest?"

"I have the Doc’s preliminary report on her genetic makeup," Tom Paris said. "She’s Human, all right. She’s still objecting to a DNA comparison to our crew and Doc doesn’t want to do it against her wishes. You could order it, of course, Captain.”

Janeway thought for a moment. “Not yet. It may come to that, but for now, we’ll honor her request. If she really is a time traveler, she may have a legitimate point.” The nagging feeling that she should recognize the girl had persisted throughout the past hour. "And the shuttle?"

"We’ve been over every square micron of it," Harry reported. "If it’s a replica, it’s accurate down to the molecular structure, except for metal fatigue. And that corresponds to an additional twenty years passage of time – and a quick trip through the Hellhole."

"It even has the same dent in the ops panel as our Amundsen," B’Elanna added. "You remember, we decided that it was just an aesthetic problem and didn’t waste the replicator energy to replace it. Well, this shuttle has exactly the same dent in exactly the same place."

Janeway nodded again. She had a feeling she knew what was coming next. "And the uniform?"

"Undoubtedly replicated on _Voyager_," Seven told her.

The Captain turned to Tuvok. "The commbadge?"

Tuvok managed to convey a sense of discomfort without visibly changing his expression. "It appears to be mine."

That did surprise her, and Janeway leaned forward. "Explain."

"It bears the same identification number as the commbadge assigned to me and appears to be identical in every respect except for metal fatigue."

"And the metal fatigue shows her badge is 20 years older than yours," Janeway finished for him.

"Yes," he admitted. "I remain unconvinced, however, that we are dealing with a time traveler. There must be another explanation."

"But what is it?" Chakotay asked. "I agree, the notion that she’s from our future is hard to believe, but has anyone got any other explanation?"

After a pause, Seven said, "An unknown species could be going to great lengths to deceive us in order to disrupt our meeting with the Tessari –assuming that such a meeting is imminent."

"A reasonable hypothesis," Tuvok agreed.

"But without any supporting evidence – so far," Chakotay pointed out.

Janeway looked thoughtful. She hated the very idea of time travel, especially after the experience she and Seven had with the timeship Relativity. But that discussion was classified and could not be conducted in front of the entire senior staff. "It’s not something we can rule out, but so far everything seems to indicate that she’s telling the truth. I think it’s time we had a another chat with our guest." Hitting her commbadge, she called, "Janeway to Sickbay. Doctor, can your patient leave Sickbay?”

“Yes, Captain,” the EMH replied, “but I advise against any strenuous activity.”

“Then will please escort her to the conference room."

"On our way, Captain," the Doctor replied.

"So, what’s she like?" B’Elanna asked curiously. "Does she look like anyone on board?"

"I’m not certain," Janeway said. "I felt as if she reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite place it. Tuvok, did you notice a resemblance to anyone?"

"Nothing that I would care to speculate upon," he said rather stiffly, even for Tuvok.

"She seems very young," Janeway went on, "especially when she’s holding that teddy bear, but she also has a great deal of poise."

"How old is she?" Chakotay asked.

"No more than seventeen," Janeway replied.

"If she is telling the truth," Tuvok added quickly.

Chakotay looked at him through slightly narrowed eyes. "You really don’t want to believe her, do you?"

"Her story is not logical," the Vulcan replied, "but it does strike an emotional chord which makes it easier for the crew to accept it. That alone makes me suspicious."

Further discussion was cut off by the arrival of the Doctor and Lucky. She was dressed now in simple black fatigues with a blue shirt, and she had left the teddy bear behind. Her dark hair was braided neatly into a single plait that reached nearly to her waist. When she came into the conference room, she looked at the officers seated around the table and her eyes touched each one, as if drinking in the sight of them. "I’m nervous," she admitted with a shy smile. "The only other times I was called here with all of you was because I was in trouble again."

"You’re not in trouble now," Janeway said, "but we would like to talk with you. Sit down."

"I gather you’ve checked me out?" Lucky asked as she sat next to Harry Kim. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked at him. "Wow, you’re so young," she said, apparently involuntarily, then looked chagrined. "Sorry, sir."

"That’s all right," Harry said uncertainly.

"So far, we have found nothing to disprove your story, Janeway began, "but you have to admit, it’s a little hard to believe."

"Oh, Captain, I understand. I can hardly believe it myself." She smiled tentatively. "I mean, I wasn’t exactly the star of the class."

"Then why are you here?" Tuvok asked. "If you were not the best suited for the task, why did you come?"

"Because I was expendable," she said quietly, and there was such pain in her eyes that Janeway felt sorry for her. "I’m seventeen years old. It was just a matter of weeks before the dormant virus killed me, too. Someone had to try, and I was next to die any case. If this fails and the future doesn’t change, it won’t matter if I am there or not."

There was an awkward silence, and then Janeway said, "Will you tell us who you are, Lucky?"

The girl bit her lip, and spoke with what seemed to be genuine regret. "I can’t, Captain. If I did, too many things might change."

"And yet," Tuvok noted, "you have come for the purpose of changing the future significantly."

She met his eyes evenly. "Commander, you taught me the basics of temporal mechanics. We – I - know we can’t control all the changes that will result in the timeline if you listen to me, but I do understand that I need to do as little damage as possible. If I tell you who I am, my parents will learn aspects of their future that they presently aren’t even considering – and that knowledge alone might result in unintended changes in the timeline."

"We’ll set that aside for now," Janeway said, although she had no intention of letting it go completely. "I’d like you to tell the staff what you told us in Sickbay."

Lucky told her story again, adding, "We’ve had a lot of time to study this disease. It is an airborne contagion, and infectious only after symptoms develop. In its dormant state, though, it can survive in almost any environment indefinitely. There’s no known cure anywhere in the Delta quadrant – at least, none that allows the patient to survive. Lethal doses of theta radiation will kill the thing." She paused, then added with a wry smile, "This has not caught on as a treatment, however."

"I have confirmed that she is not contagious," the Doctor added. "in fact, it is likely that the radiation exposure she suffered in the wormhole destroyed the dormant virus within her."

Chakotay had studied the girl as she spoke. He also watched her body language and expression for obvious signs of deception. Apart from some understandable tension, there were no blatant indications of falsehood. "How do you recommend we avert this mistake?"

She looked at him with shining eyes. "Please understand, I have had a lot of time to study the logs on this encounter, and I know exactly what went wrong and how to fix it. Just delay any face-to-face meeting with the Tessari until they realize they are sick. They’re a good people, and will not risk exposing you once they understand what’s happening to them. You just need to do it in a way that will not offend them."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Lucky smiled, showing a charming dimple in her left cheek. "They have more protocols than Starfleet, and they get very prickly when anyone doesn’t follow them. One of their protocols calls for a face-to-face meeting with potential new trading partners as soon as possible, so you have to put them off for a reason they will accept."

"And no doubt, you have a recommendation," Tuvok said.

She looked at him shrewdly; it was plain she recognized his suspicion of her. "The Tessari are also a deeply religious people, and their religion includes seers who provide omens and portents. If you tell them that your own seer recommends a delay, they will accept that."

"You would have us lie to them?" he asked.

"It’s not a lie. At the moment, I am your seer, and I am telling you that the signs for an immediate meeting are not auspicious," she replied promptly. She was not the least bit fazed by Tuvok’s coolly superior demeanor.

There were many more questions, about her time travel, and the wormhole, and her knowledge of the Tessari. B’Elanna and Tuvok asked several questions designed to test her knowledge of the ship, on the assumption that a child raised on _Voyager_ would know it in detail – Naomi Wildman certainly did – and Lucky’s knowledge was impressive. There was no hesitation in any of her responses, and no mistakes, either. Finally she turned to the Captain. "Do you believe me?" she asked simply.

Janeway looked at her thoughtfully. "I’m not sure. But even if I did, what you are asking is that we tamper with a timeline we know nothing about. That is a very serious request and not one I can grant lightly."

Lucky held her gaze intently. "Captain, this request is not made lightly. In my time, there are forty-two of us, trying to maintain Voyager and prevent its technology from falling into alien hands. We can’t do it anymore. We’re a plague ship, a pariah that is welcome nowhere. There is no future for us. Our only hope is to change the past."

The Doctor stood then to take Lucky back to Sickbay but she paused on the way out. "Captain, may I make a request?" she said. "I’d like to meet Mr. Neelix, if I may. You all spoke so fondly of him."

"And she could use something to eat," the Doctor added.

"By all means – although there is no need to share any of this with him," Janeway added quickly.

When they were gone, Janeway said only, "Comments?"

"I believe her," Paris said, and several others nodded.

Chakotay, though, spoke thoughtfully. "I would like to believe her, but I can’t help but feel that Tuvok is right to be suspicious. This could be some kind of set-up, although I can’t imagine what purpose it would serve."

"Perhaps disruption of our relationship with the Tessari would suit the purposes of someone still unknown to us," Tuvok postulated.

Janeway nodded. "I agree that the possibility exists that she is not what she seems. But so far, everything seems to support her story. So, until we have reason to question her credibility, we will do everything we can to delay the Tessari without offending them. In the meantime, I don’t want her to be left alone. If this is some kind of trick, I don’t want her to have the opportunity to plan any inside actions." She stood. "We’ve got several hours before the Tessari are due to arrive."

"You don’t think she’s sufficiently confined in Sickbay?" Paris asked.

"If she’s a fraud, then she’s probably got sufficient technological information to disable the Doctor. No," Janeway said thoughtfully, "I think it’s best if she doesn’t know she’s being watched. And I would like each of you to interact with her on a one to one basis and let me know if you sense any weakness in her story."

Chakotay stood. "I’m due for lunch, so I may as well go first. I would like to talk with her more, anyway."

Janeway nodded, but said, "Stay a moment, please." To the others she said, "Dismissed."

When they were alone, Chakotay said, "Something is bothering you."

She nodded. "What if only part of her story is true? What if she is a time traveler but she has an agenda that’s different from what she tells us?"

He considered this. "I’m not sure how to answer that. If she is a time traveler, she may have access to technology we can’t imagine. I don’t know how to find that out. If you aren’t willing to have her DNA tested against her will, then all we can do, I think, is try to assess her character and decide whether or not we’re willing to trust her."

Janeway sighed inwardly. She hated the whole idea of time travel, the problems it could create. It would be easy to order the Doctor to do a DNA test, but would that be as disruptive to the time line as Lucky claimed – assuming she was from the future? Possibly. “I hate time travel,” she muttered. "Well, then," she said. "Go talk with her. Give me your assessment later."

*  
When he arrived in the mess hall, he found Lucky and the Doctor sitting with Neelix at one of the tables. Neelix was talking with his usual animation, and Lucky was smiling warmly. He prepared a tray and walked over to the table. "May I join you?" he asked.

For just a moment he thought he saw something close to panic in Lucky’s eyes, but then it passed. "Please, Commander," she said, but looked away quickly. He wondered why he frightened her. "Mr. Neelix was just explaining how the leola root stew was made."

"Oh, the Commander has heard this before," Neelix said modestly.

"I made this once," Lucky offered. "The Captain insisted that every one of us take a cooking class. It wasn’t this good, of course, but it wasn’t all that bad either. I just made a couple little mistakes – like confusing the ferli spice with the habeñero flakes. My – my father said it was a heart-warming experience."

Chakotay smiled. "It certainly sounds like it. There’s quite a bit of ferli spice in this recipe, if I’m not mistaken."

"Quite correct," Neelix said thoughtfully. "It’s an interesting thought, though – a little zip in the old stew…excuse me, I think I’m going to try a little experiment." He bustled back to the kitchen.

"He’s sweet," Lucky said wistfully, as he left them. "No wonder you all missed him so much."

Chakotay lowered his voice, so Neelix wouldn’t hear. "You say he died at the same time as the Tessari?"

"Not exactly – he was infected because of the meeting, but it took about two weeks for the symptoms to manifest." For the first time since he sat down, she looked directly at him. "Does this mean you believe me?"

"I’ve got no reason to disbelieve you," he said carefully.

"Other than the fact that my story is preposterous," she said with a smile. "I know it is, sir. I’m grateful that you haven’t thrown me in the brig. I’m sure that’s what Commander Tuvok would like to do." She tried a bite from her plate and closed her eyes. "Hmmm. That’s good. We haven’t been able to sustain the fruit trees the last few years, and replicated peaches just aren’t the same."

"It’s our first crop," he said. "We’ve been enjoying them ourselves."

Her eyes lit up. "Has anyone made pickled peaches for you yet?"

"Pickled peaches? No, and frankly why would anyone pickle a perfectly good peach?"

"Oh, wait and see," she said, smiling broadly. "They’re going to be your favorite. And Tuvok’s." Her dark eyes took on a mischievous sparkle. "The recipe’s been in my mother’s family for generations. It was always my secret weapon whenever one of you was mad at me – I’d make a batch of pickled peaches and all was forgiven. Maybe Mr. Neelix will let me make a batch before I go back to Sickbay."

Oh, there was something so familiar about her, he thought, but what was it? Maybe a little bit of Tom Paris’s attitude? "It sounds like you were in trouble a lot."

Her smile turned rueful. "That, I’m afraid, is an understatement. Not that I ever did anything wrong intentionally. It’s just that most of my ideas seemed to take a wrong turn, somehow. I’m afraid I was a real disappointment to my parents. To all of you.”

She leaned on one elbow and laid one hand against her face. "One time, as punishment for something – I don’t remember what – I was assigned me the task of cleaning your office every day. You’d left your computer on and a file open, and I was just trying to close it out for you, but somehow I deleted all the crew evaluations. I made pickled peaches for weeks after that one."

He chuckled, then said, "Tell me about growing up on _Voyager_. Was it hard?"

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Not until – well, anyway, we loved it. All the adults taught one class or another – you taught me to read," she added with sudden shyness. "And you taught the intermediate survival course in the holodeck, and a couple of anthropology classes. Mr. Tuvok taught the advance survival courses, and naturally all the tactical classes. I took clarinet lessons from Mr. Kim, but mostly because I had a horrible crush on him. Mr. Paris taught me to fly a shuttle, Seven of Nine – oh, well, you get the idea."

It was a reasonable projection. If the crew started having children – so far, they been holding off – their education would have to be a community effort. "What did the Captain teach?" he asked, trying to picture Kathryn with a room full of schoolchildren.

"Basic quantum mechanics," Lucky answered, not surprising him at all, "and art," surprising him greatly. "Neither of which I was very good at," she admitted ruefully. "I’m afraid I was not one of her star pupils." She was still leaning on her elbow, and her smile became lopsided.

"I’d say you’re being very hard on yourself," he said. "You learned enough to make it here, after all."

"A lot changed after, well, we call it That Day, in capital letters. All of a sudden, I was the oldest person on board, and I had to shape up in a hurry." She straightened, and lowered her eyes. "You don’t know how many times I’ve wished that you all could see how well we did. We’ve tried so hard to do you proud."

He was deeply touched by her. Everything about their conversation had felt absolutely genuine. If she was lying, she was the best he’d ever come across. For a moment he imagined what it must have been like to be 14 years old and suddenly one of the leaders of a ship of frightened children. That they had managed to carry on for three years was remarkable. "Your parents are very proud," he said quietly.

The smile she gave him was dazzling.

"If you’ve finished your meal," the Doctor said – he’d been silent for so long that Chakotay had almost forgotten he was there – "we should be getting back to Sickbay. You should rest a while."

"Whatever you say, Doc," she said, and rose. "I’ll make those peaches later, sir."

"I look forward to it," Chakotay said. He sat at the table for some time after they left, lost in thought. The conversation replayed in his mind time and again, as he tried to identify the something that he almost recognized.

Tom Paris was in Sickbay when they arrived, going through the motions of tidying up the place. Lucky smiled when she saw him, and he thought that she really was a pretty girl. "Hello," she said, apparently pleasantly surprised. "I didn’t realize you were working so often in Sickbay yet."

"Yet?" he repeated, feigning (mostly) terror. "Don’t tell me I’ll be spending more time here?"

She threw a wicked glance at the Doctor, and dropped her voice to a mock whisper. "Someday he’ll tell you that you’re the best assistant he ever worked with, except Kes. But don’t tell him I told you."

The Doctor frowned. "Now, that makes me wonder if you really are from our future."

With a light laugh, Lucky climbed onto her biobed. "Mr. Paris, you were always one of my favorite people. You were one of the few who ever got into as much trouble as me and you always made me feel that things would turn out all right."

"Nice to know that some things never change," he replied. He came and sat on the edge of her bed. "So, tell me about the future. Do I replace Doc here? Or do I spend most of the time in the brig?"

Her smile drooped. "I wish I could. There’s a lot I would like to tell you about. But – "

"I know, you can’t," he finished for her. "I don’t think I really want to know, anyway. Part of the fun is not knowing what’s coming next."

After a moment, she said, "I can tell you this much, I think. You’re going to be happy." Then she succumbed to a huge yawn. "I’m sorry," she apologized at once.

"No problem," Tom said, the medic in him understanding. "You probably could use a nap."

"I think you’re right," she said, and unfolded her legs. Before she lay down, though, she surprised him by throwing her arms around him and giving him a hug. "That’s for all the times you made me feel better," she said, and then lay down and closed her eyes.

Tom stood beside the bed and watched her for a moment as she slept. He had no idea who she was, but he wondered briefly if she could be his daughter, his and B’Elanna’s. She had B’Elanna’s coloring, sort of. No, he realized, there was no Klingon in her DNA. He kind of liked the idea, though.

Satisfied that she was asleep, he told the Doc that he was returning to the Bridge and to call when she woke up.

"Naturally," the Doctor said acerbically, and returned to his computer screen. The moment Tom was out of the room, though, he crossed directly to the biobed. "He’s gone," he announced.

Lucky sat up at once. "How long do you think we have before they send someone else?"

"No more than half an hour," he said. “I wish you would let me talk to them. They would be more likely to believe me.”

She shook her head. “No, we agreed. We’re saving you until we absolutely need you.”

“I don’t agree, but you are in charge,” he conceded. “Are you certain you can override the security codes if necessary?”

She looked at him grimly. "Dead certain."  
*

About half an hour after Tom Paris returned to the bridge, Harry Kim entered Sickbay, clarinet in hand. "How’s the star patient?" he asked the Doctor.

"She just woke up," he said, eyeing the instrument. "Have you come to entertain her, Mr. Kim?"

"Nope," Harry said cheerfully. "I’ve come to be entertained." He walked over to the bed where Lucky was sitting and watching him with wide eyes. "I hear," he told her, "that I taught you to play this. Would you mind showing me what you learned?"

She flushed slightly. "The Commander told you? Umm – what exactly did he say?"

"That I gave you clarinet lessons," he repeated.

"Oh. Well, you did," she said, looking relieved for a reason he didn’t fathom. She took the clarinet from him and looked at it thoughtfully. "You know, you suffered through a lot of really bad noise with me, but I’ve been practicing a lot in the last three years." She lifted the instrument and smiled. "Some time in the future, if you are listening to a little girl torture this poor defenseless thing, remember this."

She began to play, and Harry started in surprise. She was playing his concerto, "Echoes from the Void," that he had written in the two months that _Voyager_ had been in empty space. After a moment, he closed his eyes and listened. Oh, she was making mistakes here and there, and her technique had a lot of room for improvement, but she was playing with real feeling. She understood the music. It was the first time that he had ever heard anyone else play his composition, and it was something of a thrill.

At the end of the first movement, she stopped and looked at him for a reaction. He opened his eyes and said simply, "Thank you."

Her smile was immediate and lit her whole face, revealing two dimples. "I’m so glad," she said, handing the clarinet to him. "Mr. Kim – "

"Call me Harry," he said. "After all, I’m not that much older than you."

Her dark blue eyes opened wide again, and she swallowed visibly. "I guess you’re not, now, at that. This is really strange." Then those expressive eyes took on a gleam of pure mischief. "Harry, would you mind indulging me in one more thing?"

"What?" he asked.

Without warning shifted her legs so that she was kneeling on the bed and then threw her arms around his necked and kissed him. It was a very nice kiss, but he was caught completely by surprise and before he could react she let him go. "You don’t know," she said demurely, "how often I dreamed about that when I was younger."

Completely nonplussed, Harry blurted out the first words that came to mind. “Guess I’m not your father, then?”

She looked suddenly shocked and guilty. “Uh, I, uh – “

Fortunately, she was spared the necessity of finishing the sentence by a call from the bridge. "Senior staff to the bridge," Tuvok’s voice called over the ship’s comm system.

Lucky settled back. "It’s beginning," she said softly. Her arms fell to her sides, and she looked at Harry sadly. "You better go."  
*

The Starwind was about three-quarters the size of _Voyager_, but she carried half again as much weaponry. They responded to Janeway’s hail almost immediately. "I am Cree Oskana of the Coalition of the Tessari Worlds," said the image on the view screen. He was remarkably human in appearance, except for the four visible ears and twelve fingers. He seemed to be sitting slightly apart from the others on his bridge, indicating that he was the ship’s commander. "What brings you to this part of space, Captain Kathryn Janeway?"

"We are travelers far from home," she said somewhat formally. "We thought this vortex might provide a passage for us that would shorten our journey, and stopped to investigate."

The Cree shook his head. "My sorrow, Captain Kathryn Janeway, but it will not. Our people call this "the Hellhole," for it brings only death and destruction to those who attempt to enter it."

"We have nearly reached that conclusion ourselves," she admitted.

The Cree seemed to brighten. "But this may yet be fortuitous for us both. If you are travelers, you may have needs that we can assist you with – just as you may have items of interest to us. Would you be interested in exploring this possibility?"

"Very interested," Janeway replied. "If you like, I will prepare a list of what we have to offer in trade – and of our needs."

The Cree placed the palms of his hand together and nodded his head. "This is an acceptable goal, but it is offered too soon. First, let us meet and talk, and share a meal to plant the seeds of our new friendship."

Every head on the bridge looked at Janeway. This was it, the crunch point, the moment in which she would have to decide whether or not to believe Lucky’s story. She looked at Chakotay, and he nodded once. "We would be honored," she replied, "but I would like to consult with –“ she took a breath – “a seer before we establish contact with a new partner, to ensure an auspicious time and place for the meeting."

The Cree smiled widely, causing his upper ears to wiggle. "A most wise precaution," he said understandingly. "I shall do the same. Please contact me when you have your oracle." The screen went blank.

She was half frowning as she turned to Tuvok, and found that he was facing her with as close to blatant disapproval as he ever allowed himself. "Bring her to my ready room," she said.

When Tuvok and Lucky entered her ready room, Lucky held herself at attention in front of Janeway’s desk and faced the captain with an expression that indicated she was braced for the worst. Janeway looked at the girl, thinking that despite the difference in coloring she reminded her of Kes, in that she seemed so young and so old all at once. "I told the Tessari I wished to consult a seer," Janeway began, and noted that some of the tension went out of Lucky’s shoulders on hearing that.

"Does this mean you believe me?" Lucky asked hopefully.

Janeway shook her head. "Not entirely. Oh, you’ve made a strong impression on my senior staff. Commander Chakotay, the Doctor, Ensigns Paris and Kim – they are all inclined to believe you."

The girl cast a sideways look at Tuvok, who was standing beside her. "But you do not, Mr. Tuvok?" she asked.

"I do not," Tuvok replied. "At least, I do not believe you have been completely forthcoming with us."

"And I agree," Janeway added. "I can’t quite put my finger on it, but every instinct I have tells me that you are hiding something."

Lucky looked from one to the other, and then chuffed a sound that might have been a cough or a chuckle. "You could always read me like a book, Mr. Tuvok," she said with some feeling. "I could never put anything past you. Or you, Captain."

"So, you are concealing something," Tuvok said calmly.

Lucky winced. “Well, not concealing so much as waiting until it was needed." She looked straight at Janeway. "Cree Oskana won’t want to delay the meeting. His base ship is only 10 hours away, and he desperately wants to claim the credit for a new trading partner – it’s how the Tessari gain rank. If he hasn’t sealed the deal by the time the base ship arrives, the Tis-Cree, his superior, will get the credit."

"I thought you said that he’d agree to a delay if our ‘seer’ requested it," Janeway said, annoyed.

"He will, but he may have to talk to the seer directly to be convinced," she said. "Captain, you have to let me do it. I know what to say and how to say it so they will believe it."

Janeway saw that the girl was in earnest, but she shook her head. "No. That’s an awful lot of detail for an event that happened seventeen years in your past.”

“Captain, don’t you see? I’ve had all that time to study the logs. And it took Voyager years to get out of Tessari-controlled space. I know exactly what to do.”

“That’s not acceptable. You are not a member of this crew, and frankly, I have no reason to believe you."

Lucky lifted her chin. "Everything I’ve told you thus far has proved true. I haven’t lied to you."

"But you left out some key points, didn’t you?" Janeway retorted, standing and walking to face the girl. "You should have told me before this that direct contact between you and the Tessari was part of the bargain. It’s a little late to bring it up now." She considered the girl, standing before her with an almost desperate expression on her face. "Tuvok, please excuse us for a moment. I want to speak with our guest privately."

Tuvok frowned slightly, but left with a slight nod of his head. Janeway hadn’t taken her eyes from Lucky. "Tell me who you are," she said.

"I’ve told you all I can," Lucky said, and at that moment she no longer seemed young or vulnerable. Her eyes were old, and determined.

"Then tell me," Janeway said, returning to her desk and sitting down, "why I shouldn’t dismiss you as just another temporal con artist with a hidden agenda?"

Lucky’s dark eyes widened. "Temporal con artist? You think I’m telling the truth about time travel but not about the rest of it?"

"Yes, the thought has occurred to me. We had a visit from a time traveler once. He claimed to have Voyager’s best interests at heart - only his idea of our ‘best interest’ was to destroy us."

The girl shook her head. "There’s nothing I can say to persuade you. Anything I know, a time traveler would know, too." She looked at Janeway with anguish. "Captain, I took a class 2 shuttle into death orbit around a star and then flew it through the Hellhole to get to you. That should earn me some trust! Why in the name of our fathers would I do such a thing unless I desperately believed that it was necessary and right?"

"I won’t deny your courage," Janeway said in a less heated tone, trying to defuse the situation a bit. "But it doesn’t prove that you are telling us the truth."

Stiffly, perhaps proudly, Lucky said, "I have nothing else to offer."

"Maybe you do," Janeway countered. "Tell me who your parents are, and let the Doctor confirm it. Give me a reason to trust you."

Lucky shook her head. "You asked Starling to trust you without telling him why. Can’t you understand, my situation is the same as yours was then?"

The Captain’s head swung up, her eyes blazing. "How do you know about that?"

"I told you," Lucky said calmly. "I read your logs."

"That little bit of data isn’t in my personal logs," Janeway said coldly, standing again to circle her prey. "And it’s under command seal in the official logs. Until we get back to the Alpha quadrant, only Chakotay and I know about that conversation. So if you know, you didn’t read my logs in this quadrant and you are lying."

Lucky lifted her chin, untouched by the Janeway Death Stare. "You really haven’t thought this through, have you? You want to know who I am? Well, I am the Captain of the Federation starship _Voyager_, ma’am. Your last official act was to put me in charge." Her eyes were blue fire, angry and hurt. "In spite of all the trouble I caused you all my life, you decided to put me in charge, and you told me to take care of them all. Well, I’m doing my best but you seem determined to fight me." She shook her head in disgust. "It’s so typical. I’ve never been good enough –“

Chakotay’s voice interrupted them. "Captain, Cree Oskana is hailing again."

"Not yet," Janeway snapped, then said more calmly, "Buy me some time, please. We’re not quite finished here." More calmly, she said to Lucky, "One last time. Tell me who you are."

But Lucky had regained her composure, and her expression was both serene and implacable. "No," she said. "It would be wrong."

Janeway knew in that moment that there was no point in arguing. She had heard that tone before, not with that voice, but with the same sense of conviction. Where had she heard it? Again, she felt irritatingly close to an identification. There wasn’t time for that now, though. Returning to her chair, she said, "All right. I’ll set that aside, I’m not saying that I trust you, though, or that you are qualified for a communication of this delicacy." She returned to her chair and sat down. "Tell me what needs to be said."

The dark-haired girl looked at her for a long moment. "All right," she said, "but Captain, please keep me in mind as Plan B. I’ll sit right here like a good little girl, and if you can convince the Cree, fine – but if you can’t please let me talk to him."

"I’ll consider it," Janeway said, in a tone that seemed to indicate that she might call on Lucky when hell froze over. Lucky quickly and efficiently outlined the conversation that needed to occur, and Janeway nodded. "Wait here," she said, striding past her for the bridge.

"Captain," Lucky called just before Janeway reached the door. "I asked you once why you offered Chakotay the first officer position since you’d been sent to arrest him and you really didn’t know him at all. You told me that sometimes, you have to make a leap of faith."

Janeway looked over her shoulder at the dark eyes, older than they should be in the body of a girl. Without replying, she stepped onto the bridge.

Taking her seat, Janeway hailed the Starwind and Cree Oskana appeared on the view screen. "I have consulted our seer, Cree."

"Excellent, Captain," Oskana said with a smile. This time his upper ears twitched a little. "I have done the same. My seer suggests a gathering in three standard hours. Does yours concur?"

"Sadly, no," Janeway said, hoping she sounded sufficiently regretful. "Our seer believes that tomorrow is a better time for our first contact."

The Cree’s smile dropped so quickly it was almost comical. "Tomorrow? But, Captain, why so long? Surely it is in both of our best interests to open negotiations quickly."

"Surely one day will not harm what we hope will be a long and beneficial relationship," Janeway replied.

Oskana’s eyes narrowed, and both sets of ears seemed to flatten against his skull. "Perhaps you think to study our ship in the hopes of gaining a tactical advantage and stealing what you wish."

"Not at all," Janeway assured him. "It’s just that our seer believes we should…purify ourselves before we meet face to face."

Oskana seemed to be turning deeply red. "Are you suggesting that the Tessari are a source of potential contamination?"

"No, no, you misunderstand," she said hastily. "We wish only to assure that our first meeting is fruitful and - and" she hesitated, struggling to come up with the right word.

"Blessed," Chakotay suggested in a low voice.

"Blessed," she said, not taking her eyes from the screen. Then she looked sideways at her first officer. Blessed?

"Three hours is a better time," Oskana insisted. "Here, here is my seer, she will tell you herself." He gestured, and a Tessari in a yellow robe stepped into view. The only features that distinguished her as female were the single earring she wore on her left upper ear and a voice like warm honey when she spoke.

"In three hours," she said, raising her hands slightly, "the influences of the heavenly spirits will be in perfect alignment, creating the best possible atmosphere for discussions of trade and exchanges of culture. Perhaps your seer is not as versed in the portents as I. I would be happy to speak with her and share my knowledge."

Janeway stared at the screen, thinking that she would dearly love to see a Ferengi, any Ferengi, and the Tessari seer in a negotiating session. All that oozing salesmanship combined with all those ears would be overwhelming. Either Oskana and his seer were absolutely sincere, or they were exquisite con artists, but either way, Janeway didn’t feel up to the challenge. It was time to decide. Leap of faith, or path of safety.

"Janeway to ready room," she said flatly. "Please come to the bridge."

The door opened immediately, and the first thing Janeway thought was that the girl knew how to make an entrance. She had undone the braid so that her black hair flowed freely down her back in waves that reached to her waist, and she moved the grace and dignity of a Vulcan priestess. Never taking her eyes from the view screen, she stepped down to stand beside the Captain. As she stopped, she placed her palms together and bowed slightly toward the Tessari seer, and then mimicked the position of the Tessari woman, with her hands slightly outstretched. Janeway noticed that she was wearing bracelets on each wrist that hadn’t been there before, made of some black substance.

"I am honored to greet my sister," Lucky said to the Tessari seer.

"And I," came the reply, with a formal bow. Janeway suppressed a smile; it looked like the Tessari was determined to win the dignity contest between the two. "I see thee wears the bracelets of the High Order. My sister, hast thou reviewed the portents for our meeting? The confluence of the Two Great Spheres will reach its zenith in but three hours. Should we not take advantage of such favorable alignment?"

Tom Paris swiveled in his seat and looked around with an expression that indicated his complete lack of appreciation for Tessari speech patterns.

Lucky, though, regarded her with the same serenity Kes had always possessed. "My sister, I confess that such was my first thought, but then a shadow fell across the light and I saw a word that is unknown to me, but which filled me with great dread. Perhaps, with your greater knowledge, you can put my fears to rest."

The Tessari seer looked interested. "Oh? What is the word?"

"Rythallen," was all Lucky said, but with that one word the suppressed humor on the bridge vanished when the crew saw the reaction of the Tessari.

Both the seer and the Cree stiffened immediately. "Rythallen!" the Cree exclaimed. "That is a deadly plague! Why do you see such a thing?"

"I do not know the why, Cree," she replied, "I only know that I have seen that word and your ship intertwined, and it filled me with fear for your safety, and the safety of my people."

Oskana was looking positively green, while the Tessari seer had turned pale. "And fear you should," Oskana said. He was deeply shaken. "You are quite right, if you have foreseen Rythallen, then we should delay our meeting to avoid risk of exposure. Tomorrow should be safe, you say?"

"By tomorrow," Lucky said, her voice tinged with sadness, "we will know if mine was a true vision."

Cree Oskana nodded. "We will wait, then. If your seer is correct, Captain, you have done us all a service this day. The Rythallen must not be permitted to spread."

"I hope that we are mistaken," Janeway said.

"As do I," he replied, and the screen went black.

Janeway turned to Lucky. "You didn’t tell me the disease had a name," she said in an even voice that usually meant trouble.

"Only a seer would know that," she replied calmly. "They would have been suspicious if you knew it."

"Unless my seer had briefed me," Janeway said tightly.

" I did what I thought was right, Captain," Lucky said, "and it appears to have been successful."

"Do they always talk like that?" Tom Paris interjected.

Lucky smiled. "Not always, but often enough to get on your nerves." She began to unwind the black bracelets from her wrist.

"What are those?" Janeway demanded, half annoyed. "You weren’t wearing them before."

"Oh, the bracelets are a symbol of a seer’s authority," she explained. "The Tessari would have noticed if I didn’t have them." She offered a long, limp strand to Janeway. "It’s licorice. I’m afraid I used your credits at the replicator, Captain. It was the best I could do on short notice." Chakotay did his best to hide a smile, but Paris actually snorted.

"I’m beginning to see," Janeway said slowly, "why you were in trouble so often."  
*

There was nothing to do but wait. Lucky was certain the Tessari on the Starwind would be symptomatic in just over three hours. Now that they were aware of the possibility, the Tessari would let _Voyager_ know immediately if symptoms developed. If Lucky was wrong, then Janeway was just about ready to stuff her back into her shuttle and launch her into the Hellhole.

After the conversation with the Tessari seer, Lucky suddenly turned pale. Although she insisted that she felt fine, the captain insisted that she return to Sickbay. Janeway had not shared Lucky’s prognosis with the entire senior staff; only Chakotay, Tuvok, Paris and the Doctor knew of it. She still wasn’t certain whether Lucky herself understood the full ramifications of her actions.

But there was more to be said between them, and Janeway came to speak with her. Expecting to find her napping, the Captain was surprised to find their problematic guest playing poker with Paris, Torres and Kim. "I’d like a word with our patient, if you please," she said to them.

"Fine by me," B’Elanna said quickly. "I’m already out a month’s worth of replicator rations."

Lucky looked stricken. "Oh, no, I wasn’t playing for keeps," she said, and pushed the chips toward B’Elanna. "What would I do with them? I won’t be here a month from now."

Janeway looked at Paris, silently questioning whether anyone had told the girl of her condition. He gave a subtle shake of his head. B’Elanna might have protested, but because the Captain was standing there, she gathered up the chips and left with Paris and Kim.

The captain looked at Lucky closely. The priestess who stood on the bridge had been replaced by the young girl again. "Well, young lady," Janeway began, "would you like to tell me what happens next?"

Lucky nodded. "Cree Oskana will contact you soon, to tell you that the Rythallen has broken out on the Starwind. He will get a message off to his base ship, and it will arrive as scheduled. By the time it gets here, Oskana and all his crew will be dead."

"Isn’t there anything we can do to help them?" Janeway asked.

"There is nothing we can do to cure them," Lucky said carefully. "But there is something we can do to help – and it will help Voyager as well. Captain, I want to go to that the Starwind to help them once they are sick. I can’t prevent their deaths, but I can make them less painful."

Janeway stared at her, uncertain the girl realized the full meaning of her words. "If you go, you will be exposed."

Lucky gave her a lop-sided smile. "That doesn’t really matter much, does it? We both know I’ll be dead in a few days anyway." As the Captain involuntarily looked around for the Doctor, Lucky said, "No one told me. I knew it was inevitable. There’s no way to travel the Hellhole without lethal exposure. And if the radiation didn’t get me, the Rythallen would. I’m seventeen and on borrowed time, no matter what."

She knew that the trip would be fatal, and came anyway? Janeway looked at the girl with new respect, and with compassion. "Still," she said, "you wouldn’t be able to return to us. You’ve made enough sacrifices, you won’t make this one, too."

The girl’s eyes took on a desperate gleam. "Captain, you don’t understand. Do you remember I told you the Tessari would hound you for months if this meeting went badly? Well, they did hound you for months. Years. When the base ship arrived, it found everyone on the Starwind dead and everyone on Voyager alive. The Tis-Cree suspected that you used a biogenic weapon on the Starwind. When no one on _Voyager_ except Neelix died within a few days, he became certain of it. You permitted him to search the ship, and when he couldn’t find proof he assumed that you had cleverly hidden it." Her face became anguished. "The Tessari didn’t declare war, but they did declare _Voyager_ unclean, and denied it trading rights in all space for a two thousand light year radius, and their rumors had credibility far beyond that. For five years, this ship will be low on every supply and welcome nowhere."

"I appreciate your concern," Janeway said, "but we’ve been through hard times before. We will not trade your life for a little comfort."

"It’s not just comfort, Captain," she cried, reaching out to clasp Janeway’s hand. "The base ship will destroy the Starwind, thinking that will end the disease. But it won’t. The Rythallen will survive in space. I’m not sure how, but somehow it entered into the air systems on Voyager and the base ship. The base ship will carry it to hundreds of planets – and _Voyager_ will be blamed. And in the end, you’ll all die anyway, seventeen years from now."

"How can you change any of that?" Janeway asked, shocked by the girl’s plea.

"I can try to keep Oskana alive until the base ship arrives, so he can tell them it wasn’t Voyager’s fault," Lucky said. "And I can help them steer the Starwind into the Hellhole. The radiation will kill the disease, and it won’t spread. And you can have a decent relationship with the Tessari."

Deeply moved, Kathryn Janeway tightened her grip on Lucky’s hand. "You are very courageous," she said, "and I’m proud to think that you were raised on this ship. I’ll think about your request."

She turned to go, but Lucky said, "Captain, I told the Commander that you taught me quantum physics. But you also taught me something else – to believe in redemption. Please, Captain, let me redeem myself."

Surprised, Janeway turned back. "Redeem yourself? From what? From childhood pranks and mistakes? You’re only 17, Lucky – what could have possibly done to merit such a penance?"

"I failed you," Lucky said hoarsely, her eyes filling with tears. They spilled down her cheeks as she began to talk rapidly. "The last thing you said before you died, the very last thing, was to me. I was the oldest, you see, and you said, ‘Take care of the children, Lucky’ and I promised you I would. And I tried. I’ve tried so hard. But I can’t do it. I can’t take care of them anymore, we’ve got no food and no place to go, and we’re all going to die and I can’t keep my promise to you."

Kathryn Janeway tried to picture a 14-year-old girl suddenly in charge of _Voyager_ and 42 children. What a terrible burden, what a miracle that they managed to survive for 3 more years. Gently, Kathryn laid a hand on her shoulder. "It’s all right," she murmured. "I know you tried."

Lucky suddenly gave a sob and threw her arms around Kathryn. The Captain held her for a moment, feeling a little out of her depth but knowing that the girl needed comfort. "You did well," she whispered to her.

After a moment, Lucky let her go. When she straightened, her eyes were dry and she lifted her chin. "You asked me earlier who I am, and I told you. I am the next Captain of this ship – unless you let me do this."

"I’ll think about it," Kathryn said again, and left her in Sickbay.

She wanted to talk it over, but not with the entire senior staff. Instead, she asked Chakotay and Tuvok to join her in the conference room and told them of the conversation. "The last piece of the puzzle," Tuvok said when she finished. "It finally makes sense. I do not understand why she did not tell the entire story from the beginning."

"I think I might," Chakotay said. "Remember, she grew up feeling that she was a disappointment to us all. Even though we have no memory of that – it hasn’t happened for us yet – I think she was afraid that somehow we would know that and not believe her."

"That is completely illogical," Tuvok said, then added, "but given that we are discussing human psychology, perhaps it is not without merit."

"I don’t want to let her do this," Kathryn said. "Now that we know the danger, there must be some other way to avert additional exposure. There must be something we can do to help her."

"I don’t want to let her go, either," Chakotay said, "but if anyone ever earned the right to choose her own destiny, she has."

Janeway looked at Tuvok. "You were the most mistrustful of her. Do you believe her now?"

He nodded slowly. "Assuming that the Tessari report that they have the disease on board as predicted, I am forced to admit that she must be exactly what she claims to be."

"What changed your mind?" Janeway asked, curious.

He paused to order his thoughts. "First, nothing has arisen to challenge her credibility; to the contrary, everything has turned out as she told us. Second, I have observed her closely, and while I do not know what her biological parentage might be, she shows every sign of having been raised on this ship, by us. Her behavior shows the influence of most of the members of the senior staff. I do not think this could be a coincidence, or contrived."

"Do you concur?" she asked Chakotay, and he nodded. "Then, if she was born on this ship and raised by its crew, she is a member of this crew. And as long as I am Captain, I will not permit any of my crew to throw their lives away when there are other options. Gentleman, we need to find those options."  
*

Three hours and twenty-five minutes after their last communication, Cree Oskana hailed Voyager. His face was somber and his ears lowered. "Your seer was right, Captain," he said heavily. "Four members of my crew have developed symptoms of the Rythallen. My healer tells me that everyone on board has been exposed."

"I’m so sorry, Cree," she replied sincerely.

"I’ve sent a message to our base ship, advising them of our situation," he said, calmly as if he were discussing theoretical warp models. "The _Seeker_ should be here in approximately ten hours. It is unlikely, though, that I will be able to greet it. I would be grateful if you would remain, and tell them what happened."

"Of course," she said. "Is there anything we can do for you? Are there any supplies you need?"

"Thank you, but no," he said, giving her a resigned smile. "I am sorry we will not have the chance to negotiate, Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship _Voyager_. It would have been interesting. Good trading."

"And to you," she said sadly. Everything Lucky had predicted had come to pass, which meant she was probably right about the need to send her as aid to the Starwind. She hated that decision, but neither she, Chakotay or Tuvok had been able to come up with an alternative that spared Lucky but achieved the goal. But – if felt like she had decided Lucky was expendable, and that was last thing she wanted the girl to think.

She was about to head to Sickbay when Kim announced, "Captain, someone is attempting to use Shuttle Bay 1."

"Lucky," Janeway said, and hit the comm system. "Doctor, where is your patient? Doctor, respond!"

"The EMH is off-line," the computer responded.

"Shut down Shuttle Bay 1," Janeway told Kim, then said, "Janeway to Seven of Nine." She explained to Chakotay, "I sent Seven to Sickbay an hour ago to keep an eye on things." There was no answer from the usually prompt Seven. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she said harshly.

"Seven of Nine is in Sickbay," the computer responded immediately.

"Tom, Tuvok, get down there. See what’s going on."

Harry Kim frowned suddenly. "Shuttle Bay 1 is up again. Emergency medical clearance."

Janeway’s mouth thinned into a narrow line. "Computer, lock down Shuttle Bay 1. Authorization Janeway Alpha 11 Alpha, priority 1 intruder alert." That, she thought firmly should do it. Not even the CMO could override that without the correct code.

"Chakotay, you’re with me," Janeway said. "Tuvok, take the bridge."  
*

They found her where they expected to, setting the automatic controls to release the duplicate Amundsen from the shuttle bay. What they hadn’t expected was that she had a phaser, and the Doctor was standing beside her. Lucky looked at her accusingly. "You changed the command codes."

"Of course I did," Janeway said. "You were the captain of this ship, you knew them all. What would you have done in my place?" Then she turned to the Doctor. "I thought you were off-line."

"The Doctor from this time is off-line," he informed her regretfully, "and has been since your first interview with Lucky."

"You came with her, didn’t you?" Chakotay asked. "You’re the future Doctor."

He nodded. "We couldn’t be certain you would believe her, or go along with her plan. I was the ace in the hole, so to speak."

"How did you get here without us knowing?" Janeway asked.

The Doctor looked embarrassed, and Lucky answered for him. "He came as the teddy bear. Just a few adjustments to the mobile emitter." She was pointing a phaser at them with one hand while the other worked feverishly at the station. "I’m sorry, Captain, Commander. You’ll never know how sorry. But I have to do this."

"I know," Janeway said. "We came to say goodbye."

Lucky inhaled sharply, and froze. "Really?"

The Captain nodded. "We couldn’t come up with any alternatives, and if the two of you can help those people, it’s the right thing to do. We just didn’t want to lose you. You aren’t expendable, Lucky. You never have been. "

The girl’s mouth quivered slightly, but she remained dry-eyed. She set the phaser down on the console. "With any luck, I’ll be back again in about three years."

"And we’ll all be proud of you," Chakotay added.

With a tremulous smile and shining eyes, she said, "Thank you." She and the Doctor started to head for the shuttle hatch, but she stopped and looked at them both. "I owe you a batch of pickled peaches, sir. And - the next time you see me – just in case you don’t recognize me – try to remember this and…have faith." She grinned suddenly, as if enjoying a private joke. "Please, have faith."

The Captain and the Commander stood at the shuttle bay controls until the Amundsen was away. Janeway felt a sense of loss as keen as if a member of her crew had died, combined with admiration for the girl and the hologram. Tucking her feelings away, she turned to Chakotay. "Pickled peaches?"

"She said it was how she bribed me," he explained, as they turned to head back to the bridge. "It still doesn’t sound like much of a bribe."

"Oh, no, they’re very good," she replied. "My grandmother used to make them every summer."

He looked at her sharply but said nothing.

Back on the bridge, there was a report waiting from Tuvok and Tom. They had found Seven laid carefully on one of the biobeds, deeply sedated. The Doctor was active again, and immensely annoyed that he had been inactive for so long. All files pertaining to Lucky had been expertly and thoroughly deleted.

Janeway contacted Cree Oskana and advised him that medical personnel were coming to his aid on the shuttle. "No, Captain," he protested weakly – and if his appearance was any indication, any protest at all was astonishing. "you must not permit this. They will be exposed. They cannot be permitted to return to your ship."

"We know this," she said sadly. "They know it, too but they still volunteered. Please allow them to give you whatever aid is in their power."

Oskana inclined his head. "We are grateful."

There were no further communications with the Starwind until the _Seeker_ arrived. The base ship was four times the size of its sister ship, and the Tis-Cree Michan was far sterner than Oskana. He hailed _Voyager_ immediately. "Alien vessel," he said coldly, "what is your purpose here?"

Janeway patiently introduced herself. "We are here to assist Cree Oskana in any reasonable way."

Oskana cut into the communication then. He looked awful, but he seemed to be more in control of himself than in his last communication. "Tis-Cree. _Voyager_ has been a true friend of the Tessar. They warned us of the contamination, and they sent to us volunteers, who have eased our pain and made this last contact possible." He extended a hand and Lucky appeared on the screen. She looked exhausted, and more, she looked ill. "This child of _Voyager_, and the healer she brought with her, have sacrificed their lives to ease our deaths. The debt we owe cannot be repaid."

"Understood," Tis-Cree Michan growled. "And what of your obligation, Oskana?"

The Cree nodded. "We must be destroyed. But this seer advises that first, we must enter the Hellhole and allow it to cleanse us. Then, and only then, can the Rythallen be destroyed."

Michan shifted the angle of his head. "Janeway of the Federation. Do you agree?"

"Yes," she said, hating the necessity of her words. "My seer has never deceived me…without cause." On the screen, Lucky smiled at her with complete understanding.

"Then do so," the Tis-Cree commanded.

"At once," Oskana agreed. "But first, let us download the palliative the healer has used. It is not known to our people. Our last farewells to family and friends are also included. Captain Janeway."

"Yes, Cree," she said.

"Know this: that in the history of the Tessari, none have shown the courage or the kindness of your healer and your seer. They would not tell us their names, lest we glorify them. But we mourn with you their loss, and we thank you for your sacrifice."

Janeway felt her eyes mist over. "Our loss is great," she said, her eyes on Lucky, "but no greater than yours. I wish you peace, Cree Oskana, in whatever awaits you."

He smiled. At least, she thought it was a smile. Then the screen returned to the long view of the Starwind, as it hurled itself into the Hellhole. In a few moments, it was spit out again.

"_Voyager_," hailed Tis-Cree Michan as the Starwind tumbled out of the Hellhole, "will you join me in the final act?"

Sensing it was an honor – shooting one’s own horse, so to speak – Janeway nodded. "Ready phasers," she said, her voice almost flat with the control she was exerting.

"Ready," Tuvok said barely a second later.

"On your mark, Tis-Cree," she said.

Tis-Cree Michan lifted his head. "In honor, then, and with regret. Fire."

"Fire," Janeway agreed.

The phasers from both ships hit the Starwind at the same time. The battered, free-falling ship flared white, expanded, and then exploded in a shimmer of light.

For a long moment, there was silence between the two ships, and on the bridge of each. Then Tis-Cree Michan hailed again. "We will observe a period of mourning," he told her. "I expect you will as well. Then, however, I would like to open discussions. We owe a debt that cannot be repaid. The Tessari are at your service."

_Thank you, Lucky_, Janeway thought. "Thank you, Tis-Cree. Contact us at your pleasure. We will be here."  
*

Three days later, Janeway stood outside Chakotay’s quarters, holding a glass jar. The trade negotiations were concluded; they had free passage through Tessari space and all the supplies they needed. Chakotay let her in at once. "Here," she said, almost nervously. "Nana Lissa’s pickled peaches."

He took the jar and looked at it closely. There was nothing unusual about it; the peach slices appeared to be swimming in syrup, cloves and allspice. "I’m going to like this?" he asked, feigning suspicion.

She recognized his teasing and smiled. "You’re going to love them. Good night, Commander."


	2. Reconcilation

Two Years Later

The Lenash were a pleasant surprise, the first friendly denizens of the Delta quadrant they had encountered since leaving the Tessari sphere of influence ten months earlier. They were a civilization that had progressed to early warp capability, so contact with them was permissible, but they were a couple of centuries behind Federation technology. Even so, they were not pushing for any of _Voyager’s_ superior technology in trade, but only for materials that would advance their science incrementally. In return, they had raw materials _Voyager_ needed, although not in sufficient quantity to completely replenish stores. Word of Voyager’s journey home had reached them, and they apparently viewed it as an epic quest of heroic proportions. It was clear that the Lenash welcomed them.

Captain Janeway herself conducted the high-level negotiations on the ship with Brala, the government’s Minister of Extra-Planetary Relations, and Genst, the Minister of Domestic Trade. Both were cordial and easy to work with, and Janeway was surprised at how well the talks went. The only thing the Lenash denied them was pergium; they said it was a rare commodity on their planet and the limited stores were not available for trade. In light of everything else they were getting, Janeway did not push the issue, even though pergium stores were dangerously low. The Tessari had not been able to provide much, and it seemed to be a rare commodity throughout this part of the quadrant. B’Elanna wasn’t declaring a crisis yet, but her warnings were becoming increasingly ominous.

A state dinner on Voyager was out of the question, but Janeway did invite the two officials to join her senior staff for a formal meal. Brala and Genst accepted happily, full of questions about Voyager, particularly about how the ship and crew came to be so far from home. Janeway asked Chakotay, their natural storyteller, to spin the tale.

At the end of the story, Brala looked at Chakotay. "So you, Commander, were the leader of the Maquis faction? And you were the enemy of the Federation faction?"

"For a time," Chakotay said.

Brala looked at Janeway. "And you, Captain, you were the leader of the Federation faction? And now the two of you are reconciled?"

"I guess you could put it that way," she said. "We’ve put aside our differences and learned to trust each other, to work together." She smiled at her first officer. "To be friends."

The two Lenash looked at each other with poorly concealed excitement. It was Genst who spoke first. "Captain, I would like to re-open the matter of the pergium. It is possible we can make a trade after all."

Janeway set her cup down in surprise. "I’m open to suggestions, Minister."

"We are authorized to make a quantity of pergium available in exchange for a service that you and the Commander can render," Brala said.

"What service?" Chakotay asked, suspicious. He didn’t understand this sudden shift in position, and it bothered him.

Genst looked at Brala once more, then said, "To best answer that, Commander, I must give you some idea of the history of my people. There are two things that distinguish us: we are perpetually contentious with one another, and as a result we are frequently at war. The second is, our culture is founded upon our relationship with the agenesta, a tree native only to this planet."

"The agenesta has been the lynchpin of our society since before memory," Brala continued. "In earlier days, it provided us shelter in its branches. Its fruit is still a staple of our diet, and our medicine relies on healing teas made from its bark and leaves. It is a symbol of our life, and sacred to us."

The two Voyager command officers nodded sagely. Neither had a clue where this was going to lead.

"But the agenesta is bound to the land," Genst said. "It thrives in times of peace but in times of war, it withers. If peace is not returned to the land and reconciliation proved in time, the agenesta dies."

"And it is dying now," Brala said. "Our last war was seven years ago. It was one of the most widespread in memory, involving five different factions on all three continents. Half the agenesta on the planet died before the truce. The other half have been dying slowly ever since, because we have not been able to prove reconciliation."

Janeway caught Chakotay’s eye. This sounded like something in his province, not hers. He saw her expression and caught the message. "What does it mean, to ‘prove reconciliation’?" he asked.

"The opportunity arises only once a year, on the night of the twin moons," Genst said. "The leaders of two formerly opposing factions are to spend the night at the sacred circle, the Place of Truth or Silence. If they can remain through the night without doing violence to one another, then reconciliation is proved. The land is satisfied, and the agenesta thrives again."

Janeway leaned back. "That’s why you asked about our factions, and whether we were reconciled."

"Exactly," Genst said eagerly. "You are both the leaders of opposing factions who are now at peace. You could prove the reconciliation for us."

"But we aren’t Lenash," Chakotay said. "And we haven’t been enemies for a long time. Would this be acceptable to…the land?"

The two Lenash hesitated before answering. "We don’t know. But the night of the twin moons is tonight, and we have no one willing to make the attempt. If you do not try for us, the agenesta will surely die out," Brala said.

"More," Genst added. "The coalition that has stabilized our government since the truce will splinter, and we will be plunged into factionalism again. Another war will be inevitable."

"No pressure," Paris muttered from down the table.

Tuvok was sitting even more erect than usual, his security instincts at high alert. "Why is no one willing to try? Is this dangerous?"

"Not to the truly reconciled," Genst said quickly. "Since the war, our factions have learned tolerance but no more. And tolerance alone is not sufficient proof."

Tuvok frowned. "What happened to those who tried and failed?"

Brala sighed. "Three pair left the sacred grove before dawn, because they could not endure each other through the night. Two pair quarreled violently and came to blows. And one pair, uh, well, they killed each other before dawn."

"I don’t think there’s much danger of that," Janeway said. She didn’t like this at all, but they really needed to bolster their pergium stores. Throwing a wry smile at Chakotay, she added, "If we do this, how much pergium will you provide?"

"What you asked for represents ten years’ effort," Genst said. "We will give you half that amount."

Enough to get them past the crisis point. Chakotay watched Janeway’s face, and knew she was going to agree, it was only a matter of when she said it.

They beamed directly to the sacred grove when the sun was low in the sky, despite Tuvok’s objections. He had been adamantly opposed to both the command officers being away from the ship, but Janeway overruled him. "There’s no danger," she said. "Keep a transporter lock on us and be ready to yank us out if there’s trouble. I’m willing to take a lot more risk for this much pergium."

Paris and Torres had volunteered to come in their stead. "After all," B’Elanna pointed out, "Tom and I were enemies longer than you and Chakotay were, and no one can deny that we’ve reconciled our differences now." But Brala and Genst insisted that only the leaders of the opposing factions were acceptable, and that meant only Janeway and Chakotay could fit the bill. The Captain resigned herself to a night spent in the great outdoors.

Genst had provided the supplies for the night – a single, albeit large, blanket, a loaf of bread, a jug of water, and a very sharp knife. The circle of trees clearly delineated the boundary they must not pass before sunrise. He had not exaggerated the condition of the trees; they were leafless and spindly, and appeared to be drying up. "Some kind of blight?" Janeway asked, looking at one more closely.

"Perhaps," Chakotay said. "This one looks like the center tree Genst described."

She looked up. The tree was certainly the tallest in the grove, and had the widest trunk. "You’re right," she said, and spread the blanket at its base. With a sigh, she said, "I never did like to camp out."

He smiled, and set down the basket with the other supplies. "But for this much pergium – " he teased.

"Damn straight," she said, smiling. The sky flared a brilliant pink, and she looked toward the horizon. "Just about sunset," she noted. "Got the knife?"

He reached into the basket and withdrew the weapon. Its blade was about six inches long, its handle seemed to be made of bone. She held out her left hand, palm up, and with great care, he drew the edge of the blade across the tip of her index finger. Immediately blood began to drip from the wound. He then handed the knife to her, and she did the same to him. They held their wounds over the ground at the base of the center tree and let several drops of blood fall into the dirt.

"I have drawn the blood of my enemy, and he mine," Janeway said, repeating the words that Genst had taught them.

"Let this blood be the last that we take from each other," Chakotay concluded. Then he reached into the basket and pulled out a dermal regenerator to close both cuts. She raised an eyebrow, and he replied to her unspoken question. "Genst said it was permitted."

Since her finger was already throbbing, she didn’t argue. "So," she said, trying for lightness. "Now we talk. There’s something familiar about this, but I can’t quite place it."

"The Fisher King legend," he told her. "It’s a recurring archetype in medieval Terran culture. The health of the land is tied to the body of the ruler. Sometimes the ruler’s blood is required to heal the land." He finished repairing the cut on her finger and handed her the regenerator so she could heal his. "The discussion phase seems to be a Lenash variation, though. On Earth, something more drastic was usually involved, such as ritual execution or impregnation."

She raised her brows. "We’ll stick to talking, thank you."

The next step in the ritual required them to discuss the time that they were enemies. Then they were supposed to share the bread and discuss their reconciliation. After that, they could talk about anything, or nothing, or simply sleep, as long as they stayed until dawn. They sat opposite each other on the blanket.

"You became my enemy," she said with some formality, "the day I read your Starfleet file. I read your service record, and it was impressive. Excellent tactical skills, solid science background in archaeology and anthropology, good future – and yet you turned your back on Starfleet and the Federation. I remember feeling very angry with you, even though we’d never met."

"Angry? Why?" he asked.

"It felt like a personal affront," she admitted. "Remember, I’m fourth generation Starfleet. From your record, you seemed to be a fine officer, a man of integrity and honor. I couldn’t understand why you would go to the Maquis. I was determined to bring you in and make you tell me why."

He looked at her curiously. "But you never pushed that."

"No," she said. "When we met, I realized that you _were_ a man of honor and integrity. And as such, your reasons must have been significant. I hoped that you would trust me enough to tell me one day – and you did." Then she smiled wryly. "I think I’m supposed to save that part for later."

"That file must have left a few things out," he observed.

"More than a few," she acknowledged. Privately, after she had come to know him, she had been astonished at the omissions from her briefing. It was as if the Admiralty wanted to take no chances that she might sympathize with or admire him - as if that would have hindered her from doing her duty. The thought was purely insulting. "But it didn’t skimp on your record with the Maquis. You did some serious damage, you know."

He grinned at her wolfishly, an expression she rarely saw him use. It reminded her how dangerous he had been. "Oh, I know," he said.

"Then we lost contact with Tuvok," she went on, "and I was truly afraid that you had discovered he was a spy and killed him. In fact, I had just about convinced myself of that by the time I left DS9, in spite of my faith in Tuvok’s abilities and my brave words to T’Pel. And if you – the evil renegade Maquis leader - had killed him, I would go through the fires of hell to bring you in."

His smile faded. "If I’d known, I would have killed him. He learned too much too quickly. We didn’t have the luxury of putting our enemies in prison." His eyes narrowed a little. "I wonder what would have happened if we had gone head-to-head. It would have been a hellacious fight."

"I remember," she said slowly, "the first time we met. You were bigger than I expected. There was no way I was going to take you in hand-to-hand, if it came to that. I needed to be more clever than you, and given your record, I knew that wouldn’t be easy. You needed to believe I wasn’t intimidated."

"Intimidated? You?" he asked, surprised. "You didn’t show it."

"Good," she said, with satisfaction. "It’s your turn."

He nodded. "You became my enemy before I ever knew your name or saw your face. You were Starfleet, and I despised you. If we had met in the Badlands, I would have done my best to blow you out of the sky without exchanging a word. Then I saw you in the view screen, and you were Starfleet personified. And for the first time in years, my enemy had a name."

"As I recall, that was a short conversation," she said, frowning. "You made up your mind quickly."

"Had to, in the Maquis," he said. "You seemed inflexible and intolerant – everything I had come to associate with Starfleet."

That actually shocked her. "I didn’t realize that you felt that strongly – about Starfleet, I mean. You didn’t seem to hesitate when I asked you to put on the uniform again."

He laughed once, but without humor. "The Federation and Starfleet turned their back on my world, Kathryn, and everything and everyone I knew was destroyed. It was a betrayal that cut deep. I despised everything this uniform stood for, and putting it on again was one of the hardest things I ever did."

"Sometimes," she said, touching his hand, "I forget how it was in the early days. If I have ever taken you for granted, I’m sorry."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Save that for later, too. I’m still telling you that you were my enemy." She inclined her head, telling him to go on. "When we met on the planet, I had every intention of getting control of your ship, even if it meant stranding you and your entire crew with the Kazon. I figured you’d come after me as soon as you saw me. You really threw me when you suggested we work together. I honestly thought it was some kind of trap."

"And yet," she said softly, "you sacrificed your ship to save us."

"By then," he acknowledged, "every instinct I had said I could trust you. You did a helluva job with the Caretaker, and the Ocampa, and the Kazon. Even so, I was expecting you to throw me in the brig when you came to talk to me. The last thing I expected was that you’d offer me the exec position." He stopped. "I asked you then, but I’m going to ask you again. Why did you?"

Back then, she had said only that she had done so because it made sense. It was just part of the truth. "Because," she said slowly, "every instinct I had said I could trust you."

There was a long silence between them, then he said, "I think we’re finished with this part. Ready to move on?" She nodded, and he pulled out the loaf of bread, twisted off a hunk for her and one for himself. Speaking the ritual words from Genst, he said, "In friendship, let us share this meal."

"And of friendship let us speak," she replied, and took a bite of the bread. "This is good," she said, her mouth still full. It was still slightly warm and had a pleasant, nutty flavor. "Neelix’s cooking has improved, but he just doesn’t have a knack for good bread. You first, this time."

"You became my friend," he began, "when you offered me the job, although I didn’t realize it right away. It didn’t hit home until the first time we played pool in Sandrine’s. I haven’t had many close friends in my life, and it struck me then that I felt more of a connection with you in that short time than with just about anyone else."

"Whupped ya, as I recall," she said with a grin. "I do miss that program. I wish Tom would repair it."

"Don’t count on it," he warned. "I think Tom has moved past that time of his life, and doesn’t want to be reminded of it." He cocked his head at her. "I think it’s your turn."

"Oh." Suddenly, this was much harder than she thought it would be. "You became my friend… well, the truth is, I’m not sure when. As I said, I felt that I could trust you almost from the first."

"You didn’t show it," he said thoughtfully. "There was a line, sometimes I could almost see it – you would trust me that far and no farther."

She tipped her head in acknowledgement. "That’s true, although I didn’t realize it at the time. I’m a scientist by training, and I’m not used to relying on instinct." She smiled suddenly. "Although I’ve become considerably more accustomed to it in the Delta quadrant." Breaking off another hunk of bread, she handed him a piece and spoke between bites. "And every time I had just about convinced myself that my instinct was right, you’d run off on your own and I’d start to wonder."

She stopped, looking surprised. "I didn’t mean to say that. At least, not that bluntly."

"This is the Place of Truth or Silence," he said with a shrug. "I made mistakes, but my motives were good."

"I know," she said. "And after New Earth, I never doubted again." Then her eyes widened, and she looked away. It was the first time she had mentioned New Earth since they were rescued.

Her words hung in the air between them. For a moment, just a moment, he considered letting her off the hook. No chance, was his next thought. "Do you ever think of New Earth?" he asked quietly.

They were sitting very close to one another, her face only centimeters from his. Her heart began to thud in her chest. _Don’t_, her mind told her, but she ignored that voice. "Yes," she whispered. "Often."

"Me, too," he admitted. He pretended there was a stray lock of hair on her cheek and brushed it away. "Do you ever wonder what would have happened?"

_Don’t say it,_ her head advised, but her heart answered. "Often."

"Me, too."

They sat, looking at each other, for what seemed a long time. At last he tilted his head downward, and she mimicked him, until their foreheads touched. "Kathryn," he said, his voice low, and he took her hands in his.

She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Her usual control refused to assert itself, and she found herself focused on the feel of his hands in hers, remembering the strength and gentleness those hands were capable of. All the feelings she had buried or channeled in the months since their rescue came flooding back. "I’m sorry," she said softly, although she wasn’t certain exactly what she was sorry for.

"Look at me," he said, lifting his head and waiting until she met his eyes. He took her face in his hands and kissed her.

It was a gentle kiss, soft and tender, and he leaned back a few seconds later. She stared at him for several seconds, then astonished herself by pulling him back to her and returning the gesture. After a bit, she ended it, and looked at him with a sad smile. "I wish it could be different."

"I know," he said, then took a deep breath. They needed to change the mood and quickly, or they could easily get carried away. He said briskly, "I think we’ve probably established our friendship sufficiently."

"Yes," she said dryly. "I would say so." Shaking her head, she wondered why she wasn’t upset with herself. Her conduct was completely inappropriate for an away mission, but she couldn’t summon much in the way of recrimination. She was feeling very relaxed.

"I think we can sleep now, if you want," he said, and she nodded.

"I like that idea," she agreed. They set the basket aside and studied the blanket. Big as it was, it was not meant to accommodate two people trying to sleep apart. They both frowned at it. "Well," she said at last, "I guess we can both curl up together, it ought to be enough."

"Worried about your honor? " he asked, teasing.

"Hardly."

"Here," he said, showing her how to wrap the blanket around them. He laid back, pulling her to rest with her head against his shoulder. "This is how we named the constellations on New Earth, remember?"

He felt, rather than saw, her smile. "I remember," she said softly. She was suddenly very tired, and despite the fact that they were lying on hard ground she felt warm and safe. She laid a arm across his chest and closed her eyes.

Her regular breathing told him she was asleep almost immediately. He stroked her hair, careful not to wake her, and closed his eyes.

Their dreams were not specific. Just a general sense of happiness, and of contentment. Massive contentment.  
***

When they woke in the morning, they were in the same position: both lying on their backs, she with her head in the crook of his shoulder. They were snuggled close to one another for warmth. It seemed that they awakened at the same instant, and found themselves staring at each other.

"Hi," he said, in a rusty voice.

"Morning," she replied, her voice unusually husky.

They stretched, and Janeway felt her body protest. She ached in places that hadn’t ached in a long time. Sleeping on the ground at her age was not as fun as when she was a child. It hadn’t been much fun then.

They stood, and looked around. And froze.

The trees which had been on the brink of death the night before were in full bloom; white blossoms with a sweet fragrance dominated their sight. Every single tree. "I don’t believe it," Janeway said slowly.

Almost in shock, they folded the blanket carefully and prepared to walk away from the sacred circle. Genst and Brala came running up the path to meet them.

"It’s wonderful!" Genst burbled. "wonderful!"

"A perfect reconciliation," Brala added.

The Voyager officers looked at them expectantly. "You’re satisfied, then? Janeway asked.

"Satisfied? Look around you! The trees are in bloom!" Genst turned in place, his arms upraised.

Brala seemed more under control. "Yes, you have fulfilled your part of the bargain," he said. He looked around at the white-blossomed trees ringing them. "More than fulfilled," he said softly. Then he remembered himself. "The pergium is ready for loading," he said. "Your ship already has the coordinates."

"Good," Janeway said. She looked at Chakotay. "We thank you for this opportunity. We have not stopped recently to reflect on how far we have come. I think this was valuable for us both."

Genst looked at them with wide eyes, and Chakotay wondered at it. "Oh, Captain, the value is yet to be seen. This was the most perfect Reconciliation in memory."

"Yes. Well. If you are satisfied, and we’ve done everything we can," she looked at Chakotay, "I guess we’ll be going now."

"Oh, yes," Brala said. "You have indeed done everything you could for us. Go with peace."

"And you," Chakotay concluded. This whole thing was becoming a little too weird. Looking around the circle of trees, he was struck by an odd certainty that he had forgotten something, something important. He wanted to be back on the ship, where everything was normal.

Janeway must have felt the same way, because there was a slight edginess in her voice when she contacted the ship. "Two to beam up."

Tuvok and the Doctor were waiting for them in the transporter room. "I trust that you spent an uneventful evening?" the security officer asked.

"Uneventful," Janeway confirmed, then smiled at Chakotay, "but interesting."

"That’s fine," the Doctor said briskly, "but I would like to check you both for any effects from the solar flare."

They both looked at him blankly. "What solar flare?" Chakotay asked.

Tuvok frowned. "You did not observe it, then?"

"It was night," Chakotay said impatiently.

"You should have seen its effects, nonetheless." Tuvok’s frown deepened. "There was a lunar eclipse at 0330 local time, at the same instant of the flare. The flare created the impression of a lunar corona. It should have been plainly visible from your location."

Janeway waved him off. "By 0330, we were asleep. I need a shower, and a cup of coffee, and then I’ll come to Sickbay, Doctor." She nodded goodbye to all of them, and left the transporter room.

"You should have seen it," Tuvok insisted to Chakotay. "It created sufficient light in the atmosphere to mimic daylight. I find it hard to believe you slept through it."

He shrugged. "I guess we were more tired than we realized. Sorry I missed it, though, it sounds spectacular. I’ll clean up and come to Sickbay, Doctor." He also left the transporter room.

The Doctor sighed. He had hoped to get the examinations over immediately. He knew his commanding officers well enough to know that despite their good intentions, they would get diverted before arriving at Sickbay and he would have to spend hours hounding them to come in. No one understood the difficulties of his job. He looked at Tuvok. "I don’t suppose you want to come to Sickbay." Tuvok said nothing. "No, of course not. Well, see if you can get them in before the next crisis," and he left also, leaving Tuvok alone.

The Vulcan stood at the transporter console for a moment. He was troubled by the conversation with the Captain and the Commander, but he could not define the source of his discomfort. He would have to consider the matter carefully. His thoughts were interrupted by a call from Harry Kim on the bridge. "The cargo is safely on board, sir. We can break orbit any time."

"I am on my way," he said, and left the transporter room for the bridge. He was not sorry to be leaving Lenash.  
***

On the planet below, Brala and Genst stood on a balcony, looking out at a vista filled with white-blossomed trees. "Amazing," Genst breathed. "Simply amazing. This must have been what The Great Reconciliation looked like."

Brala nodded, but he was not smiling. "Do you think we should have told them?"

Genst shrugged. "They are not Lenash. It may not be the same for them. And if it is, well, they will find out soon enough." He clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. "Come. The celebration is beginning."

After a moment, Brala nodded, and followed him inside.


	3. Prixin

Three Months Later

Kathryn Janeway had never wanted to kill a hologram before.

All right, that wasn’t exactly true. Once, she had sincerely wanted to kill the hologram of Seska. But that was different. Somehow. Her fervent desire to kill the Doctor was in another category entirely.

It started hours earlier, when he came to the bridge looking irritatingly cheery. "Since Mohammed will not come to the mountain," he said to the Captain, hoisting his medical tricorder, "the mountain comes to Mohammed."

"We just did this," she protested.

"That was twelve weeks ago, when you returned from Lenash," he reminded her. "And a thirty second scan in the corridor hardly counts. You are past due for your annual exam."

There was nothing she hated more than an argument on the bridge. "I’ll be there after duty shift," she growled.

"No need," he replied, his smile unfazed. "We can do a preliminary check in your ready room now. There will be no need to come to Sickbay unless something questionable turns up."

She turned to Chakotay with a silent appeal for help. "It’s regulation," he said, his smile showing that he knew how much she hated this, and that she was trapped, and that he was going to be of no help whatsoever.

A glance at Tuvok told her she would get no assistance there. "Oh, all right," she said ungraciously, and led the Doctor into her ready room.

"I feel fine," she told him.

"No doubt," he said, opening the medical tricorder and scanning her. "And when you have your medical degree we’ll talk some more. Cardiovascular system looks good…digestive system …hmmm." He frowned, checked a reading, and then cleared the tricorder. "Let’s try that again."

"My digestive system is just fine," she said.

"Yes, it is," he said, but he seemed distracted. Then he closed the tricorder and replaced it in his kit. "I’m sorry, Captain, but you’re going to have to come to Sickbay."

"Why?" she asked, annoyed. "I thought you said I wouldn’t have to."

"Unless something questionable showed up. Something has, and I need to run more detailed tests." He looked at her pointedly. "Shall we go now, or do we have to fight about it some more?"

"What is questionable?" she demanded. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the morning in Sickbay.

The Doctor’s expression was odd. "Either this tricorder is malfunctioning badly, or you are pregnant."

She laughed out loud. "It’s the tricorder, then, because I assure you, Doctor, I cannot possibly be pregnant. And I am not going to waste my morning because of a broken tricorder." She smiled, took him by the arm and led him toward the door. "Let’s try this again when your equipment is working properly. And next time, let me know you’re coming."

Good humor restored, she returned to the bridge. It was two hours later that the message from the Doctor appeared on her console. "The tricorder has been thoroughly tested by both Seven and myself. It is not malfunctioning. I expect you in Sickbay by 1500."

At least, she thought, he had the good sense to keep the message private and not send it over the commlink. The tone of the note bordered on insolence, but it was within his authority as CMO and probably warranted by her own attitude that morning. Even so, she was irritated.

And puzzled. If the tricorder was working properly, why would it show she was pregnant? That was one thing she could address with absolute certainty. After more than six years of a monastic personal life, she was definitely not pregnant.

She left the bridge at 1430, telling Chakotay she had some business elsewhere. He did not ask for details, apparently sensing that she wouldn’t have told him anyway. It wasn’t as if she could keep it a secret, since anyone who wanted to know her location only had to ask the computer. But she felt she could trust Chakotay to respect her privacy, unless a command situation arose.

Only the Doctor was in Sickbay when she arrived. "This won’t take long," he assured her. "We just need to find out what is creating that reading."

His idea of ‘not long’ and hers were two different things. For the next half-hour, he scanned her, imaged her, studied the results, and repeated the entire process. Finally, he helped her off the biobed and asked her to come into his office.

Because anyone could come into Sickbay while they were talking, she followed him. As soon as they were in his office, though, she demanded impatiently, "Well?"

"I think you should sit down," he said.

"I don’t need to sit down. I just need to know what you found."

He hesitated just a moment. "Captain, the tricorder was not in error. You are pregnant, approximately 12 weeks gestation."

Janeway sat down. "Doctor," she said, pronouncing each syllable slowly, "That simply is not possible. I have not had sexual relations with anyone – anyone - since we entered the Delta quadrant. That’s six and a half years. I cannot be pregnant."

"I understand your reluctance to accept this," he said. "Let me show you." He turned his monitor to face her and called up the test results.

Her eyes went immediately to the recorded image from the scan. It was undeniably a fetus, tiny and barely formed, but with definite fingers and toes. "Oh my god," she said, stunned. Involuntarily, her hand flew to her belly. "But – but – how ? How could this happen?"

"I do not doubt your sincerity," the Doctor said very carefully, "but is it possible you are overlooking something? Forgotten an encounter, perhaps?"

"I’ve been celibate for nearly 7 years," she snapped. "Believe me, I would remember if there had been ‘an encounter.’ And I have NOT been visited by Gabriel or any other angel.”

He tried another tack. "Twelve weeks ago, you and the Commander spent the night together on Lenash."

She glared at him. "Yes. We talked, we ate some bread, and we went to sleep. Period. End of story."

"There’s no chance that something else happened?" he pressed delicately.

"Are you suggesting," she said coldly, "that the Commander took advantage of me while I was asleep? Don’t be ridiculous."

"I’m sorry, Captain, but under the circumstances, we need to consider every possibility." He paused. “Of course, the Commander would never do anything like that. But you were on a planet we know little about and engaged in an alien ritual we didn’t understand. Perhaps your memories were manipulated.”

  
Janeway stood and paced around the office. "No, I would know if that happened. It’s got to be something else, maybe some kind of alien intervention" – she looked up, suddenly aghast. "Doctor, are you sure this fetus is human?"

"Yes, yes," he assured her. "I checked the DNA and it is 100% human."

“Whose?” she demanded.

“I don’t know yet,” he said. “The non-invasive procedure can only confirm species. We’ll need to extract a sample to narrow it down to actual parental contributors.”

She took a deep breath. "Then I suggest we do that. We need to figure out who the father is," she said with forced calm. "Can you do it now?”

"Yes, of course." His eyes were compassionate. "I’m sorry, Captain."

"Stow it," she growled. "Let’s get this over with."

The procedure itself took only fifteen minutes, but the bad news was that the results would not be instantaneous. Anything less than an immediate answer seemed unendurable. The Doctor anticipated this as he finished up. "This won’t take very long, but perhaps you would be more comfortable waiting in your quarters?”

He was right, she realized; sitting in Sickbay with nothing to occupy her while she waited was not a good idea. She returned to her quarters and tried to look at some of the reports that had piled up in the past few days, but she could focus on them. Back at the Academy, when taking exams, she always skipped a question if she didn’t know the answer immediately and moved on to the ones she could answer. There’s no answer to the ‘how’ question, so move on, Kathryn, she told herself. Try this one: what are you going to do about it?

The answer to that depended largely on what the Doctor found. The ‘who’ might lead to the ‘how’ and that could easily drive her decision. If it turned out they had invisible aliens on board who were conducting medical experiments on them again, the answer would be easy. She would just have to hope she could find a binary pulsar again to get rid of them.

But it might not be so easy.

She had always planned on having children. If Voyager hadn’t been trapped in the Delta quadrant, she and Mark surely would have married and started their family by now. As it was, though, she was unattached, unlikely to become attached any time soon, and nearly 45 years old. This could be her only chance for motherhood.

But could she be a single mother and captain a lost starship without compromising both duties? Sometimes the responsibilities of command alone were overwhelming, demanding all of her time, attention and focus; how could she add the responsibility for a child? There would be help, of course; just as everyone had pitched in to help Samantha Wildman when Naomi was born, they would support her. But Sam was an Ensign, not the Captain.

And just what duty did she owe to a child she had not sought? In whose creation she had been an unknowing participant?

She kept coming up with questions but very few answers.

After a lifetime, the Doctor asked her to return to Sickbay. He invited her into his office, where they could talk privately.

"Well? she asked tensely.

He nodded. "There’s no doubt about it. The baby is a product of your DNA and Commander Chakotay’s."

She expelled a slow puff of breath and leaned back. Somehow, she was not surprised. She was relieved that her child was human and not some alien implant, but other than that, she didn’t know how to feel. "I suppose I shouldn’t say it’s not possible, since obviously it has happened, but I still don’t understand."

"It seems clear to me that conception occurred while you were on Lenash," the Doctor said. "The timing is right, and you and the Commander were alone together."

"But nothing happened between us," she nearly shouted in frustration. She took a deep breath and calmed herself. "I’m sorry, Doctor. It’s just that…the Commander and I made a conscious decision some time ago that we could not engage in physical relationship, at least not while we are still in the Delta quadrant. That decision has not always been easy to live with and it was particularly difficult for me that night. But we stuck to it."

"I’m sorry," he said gently. "I don’t know what else I can tell you. I don’t believe that our alien researchers have returned; I asked Seven to test that theory, without telling her why, of course, but the DNA test is definitive. And no one else has exhibited an unexplained condition."

"So." She ran a hand through her hair. "I’m pregnant, we don’t know why. We need to talk about the options."

His face became very serious. "There are three medical options available to you; well, at this stage, perhaps only two. We might have been able to manage a surrogate to take over the pregnancy if we had discovered it sooner, but I’m afraid it’s too late to try that now without endangering you, the baby and the surrogate. So, you have two options remaining: you can carry to term or you can terminate the pregnancy. I’ve been over the test results in great detail. You are in excellent physical condition and the baby is genetically sound, free of abnormalities. Your pregnancy should be uneventful if you decide to go to term.”

He stopped, and she had to prompt him. "And termination?" Her voice sounded harsh.

"Termination," he said sadly, "should be done sooner rather than later. Under Federation law, you have the ability to terminate a pregnancy for any reason at all up to 20 weeks gestation. After that, it becomes more complicated as we need to balance the rights of the unborn child with your own. Of course, the law also allows a woman to choose termination in the event of a pregnancy that is forced upon her. Before you decide, however, I recommend you advise Commander Chakotay of the situation."

"It’s not his decision," she snapped.

"No, it’s not. But he is directly concerned with the situation." He added softly, "Don’t you think he has a right to know?"

In her heart, she agreed. But the idea of telling him, of trying to discuss this with him, was too hard to contemplate. She looked away, unable to respond.

"Kathryn," the Doctor said kindly, "I know how hard this is for you. Don’t try to make this decision alone. If you can’t talk to Chakotay, at least speak with Tuvok. He is your friend, and will help you."

She nodded once, then left without saying anything more. Her mind seemed to be running on parallel tracks, one set still trying to figure out how this had happened, the other track imagining a conversation with Chakotay. As she turned a corner, she nearly tripped over something short and moving fast.

  
Naomi saw who she had just barreled into and froze. "Sorry, Captain."

"That’s all right," she said. "What’s the hurry?"

The little girl’s eyes grew large. "It’s Prixin," she said, as if the Captain had forgotten the most important thing in the universe. "I have to finish my lessons early so I can help Neelix."

"Ah. Well, see if you can hurry without running. It’s hard to see around corners." Naomi nodded solemnly, and took off at an accelerated walk.

Kathryn Janeway watched the little girl disappear around the corner and made at least one decision. She was going to have to talk with Chakotay. But not yet. Not just yet.  
***

She returned to her quarters and tried, without success, to plan the conversation she had to have. About 0100 her stomach rumbled loudly enough to probably be heard in the cabin next door, and she realized she was hungry. Very hungry. Unfortunately, she was also low on replicator rations for the rest of the month. Deciding that the mess hall would probably be deserted at this hour, she pulled on a pair of sweats and went to scavenge.

The lighting in the mess should have been dimmed to night illumination, signifying that it was officially closed. When she walked in, though, it was at full strength. No one was present except Neelix, who was humming cheerfully in the galley. "Good evening, Captain," he said cheerily. "Or should I say good morning? What can I do for you?"

"What have you got for someone who forgot to have dinner?" she asked, checking over the fruit baskets on the counter. The tart chingol berries they obtained from the Tessari looked especially appealing, but she wanted something more to go with them. "And what are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be off duty?"

"You’re in luck," he said, stepping over to the cooler. "There’s some leftover soup. I’ll just heat it up for you." He bustled about as he spoke. "Have you forgotten about Prixin? The celebration is tomorrow night. There’s still a great deal to do."

Prixin. She had completely forgotten about it, and now the word caused her heart to sink like a stone. The annual celebration of family, Prixin was a Talaxian tradition adopted enthusiastically by Voyager’s crew. This had to be the cruelest Delta quadrant joke yet, to foist Prixin on her while she was dealing with her present dilemma. Hot tears stung at her eyes, and she brushed them away before Neelix could see them.

By the time he presented her with a steaming bowl of vegetable soup, she was back in control. "Thank you," she said. "Neelix, would you be terribly upset if I don’t attend tonight?"

The hurt showed on his face, but he immediately covered it up. "We’ll miss you, of course," he said, "but I’m sure Commander Chakotay will fill in. It will be odd, though, since you’re really the head of our family."

In spite of herself, she winced, and he saw it immediately. "Is something wrong, Captain? --I don’t mean to pry, but you seem upset."

She forced herself to relax. "There is something on my mind, but I can’t talk about it yet. Thank you for your concern, though."

He nodded. "I know how it is. Some things just have to get ripe before you share them." He smiled suddenly. "When I have a problem like that, I find that keeping busy helps. My thoughts more or less organize themselves when I’m not looking. So I find something to keep me occupied for a while."

"Why do I think you’ve got something in mind?" she asked, smiling.

"I could use an assistant," he said jauntily. "If you don’t mind peeling the wiki fruit."

It was better than staring out at space for the next few hours. "Let me finish my soup," she said, "and you’ve got a deal."

For the next few hours she peeled fruit, chopped vegetables, arranged flowers and washed pans. At first, Neelix seemed to sense her reluctance to talk, so he maintained a steady monologue, discussing everything from recipes for cobblers to his first trip off-planet. After a while, his enthusiasm was catching, and she found herself describing her first trip to Mars with her father. Before she knew it, the time was 0430 and the first breakfast seekers began to trickle in. She hadn’t thought about her problem for hours.

"Thank you, Neelix," she said, removing the apron she’d been wearing.

He smiled. "You’re welcome, Captain."  
*

Chakotay got her message as he was dressing for his shift. She asked him to come to her quarters before starting his shift, and he went immediately. Something had happened yesterday, late in the shift, to upset her and he hoped she was going to tell him about it now. It was never a good sign when she retreated to her quarters for long periods of time; that was usually a symptom of depression or guilt that gripped her occasionally. He knew enough to recognize it now, but he still felt unable to combat it. If she would talk to him, though, maybe he could help.

She was at her worktable, with a vacant chair opposite her, which she motioned him to take. She’s nervous, he realized, and wondered what could fluster Kathryn Janeway. Then she began to speak, in short simple sentences. “We have a situation. It seems… the Doctor has confirmed that I am twelve weeks pregnant, and the DNA test shows the child’s biological parents are, in fact, you and me.”

His first thought was that this was a joke. Maybe some kind of Prixin prank. He started to smile, but then the look on her face got through to him. She wasn’t joking. "You’re serious?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"I’m afraid so," she said glumly.

"But – but," he couldn’t stay still, he had to move. Pacing around the chair, he said, "We never-“

"I know. We never. And since I’ve been celibate since we hit the Delta quadrant, you can imagine my reaction." She took a sip of tea, then said. "The best the Doctor can come up with is that something happened the night we spent on Lenash."

He stopped pacing long enough to give her a hard look. "Nothing happened that night, Kathryn. You know that."

"I certainly don’t remember anything that would explain, uh, this situation." Her face was hot with embarrassment. "The Doctor thinks it is possible that we were drugged or otherwise tampered with, so that we don’t remember."

"Kathryn." He looked at her squarely. "No.”

Her face grew even hotter, and she had to look away from the intensity of his gaze. "There might have been some technology involved. However it happened, it’s a problem and we have to deal with it."

His eyes widened with understanding. "You’re considering termination," he said, his voice suddenly flat, and he resumed his circular pacing.

"I have to consider it," she said evenly. "We have to think about what’s best for the ship. How would a pregnancy affect my ability to command? What about our policy on no babies – how do I explain to the crew that we’re breaking the policy just this once, for me?" He said nothing, just continued his on his path, so she went on, "And what about the personal aspects of this? It’s completely unfair to both of us – and probably to the baby, too. None of us expected this."

She watched him closely, trying to discern some clue to his feelings. Finally she said, "Do me a favor and sit down. You’re making me dizzy."

Although she had hoped that might elicit a smile, his expression was completely serious as he sat down. He folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Put the ship aside for a moment-“

"I can’t," she interrupted.

"We’ll get to the ship," he said, almost angrily. "What I need to know is how you feel about this?"

It was a legitimate question. She wished she had a better answer. "I don’t know," she admitted. "It’s hard to sort it all out. Part of me is angry and scared – but underneath that, there’s a part of me that’s glad. I keep thinking, what if this baby is Lucky? And that makes me happy but at the same time, it scares me. If Lucky was my child, I don’t think I was a very good mother to her.”

He studied her for what felt like a long time, and she feared he might press her for more. She honestly didn’t know what she would say if he did. After a moment, though, he nodded, and leaned back, lost in thought.

The silence stretched as taut as her nerves and she was about to burst with anxiety when he finally spoke. "I know it’s your decision, and I’ll support whatever you choose. But I would be proud to raise a child with you."

Her eyes misted over, and she told herself it was just hormones. "I wish it were that simple."

"I didn’t say it would be easy," he said. "But you won’t be alone."

He said that before, she thought, and remembered the time they were facing the Borg. He had said she wouldn’t be alone, but in the end, she had been. Suddenly shaken, she stood and walked to the view port. "It’s all so complicated. I need to think. I imagine you do, too. I’ll let Tuvok know I’ve got you on assignment this morning."

"Thanks." He rose and started for the door. Before leaving he turned, only to find that she already had turned her back. He considered walking away but decided against it. “Kathryn. If you don’t want the child, I will take it. I’ll raise by myself if you don’t want - if you feel you can’t – be involved.”

She wheeled around, looking shocked. “I never – no. If I have this baby, I will be its mother. But – thank you.” She turned around again and this time, he left.

Chakotay went to his office and initiated the privacy lock. His first instinct was to try a vision quest, but then he realized that he had made that journey once before, when Seska claimed to be pregnant with his child. The answer then was that the baby’s existence was not the baby’s fault. If it had been true for a child supposedly conceived by his enemy from stolen DNA, how much more true for Kathryn’s child?

His father had advised him on that quest. He saw his family now only in visions. Even if he returned to the Alpha quadrant, there would be no one except a distant cousin. He had come to think of the crew of Voyager as his family, but this child was his. Regardless of the method of conception, Kathryn’s baby was the only other human being closely connected to him by blood. The lure of that was strong.

But Kathryn was right, it wasn’t just about them. They had an obligation to put personal concerns aside for the good of the ship, and they had done just that for years. If not, they might have changed their relationship and started a family years ago. She was right, too, about the effect on the crew. The no-baby policy was not popular, but it was at least accepted. Everyone realized the need to conserve resources. Personally, he didn’t think that the crew would expand Voyager’s population to the breaking point but the policy had been thoroughly discussed. They couldn’t make an exception just for the Captain and the first officer, any more than they could just arbitrarily change the policy to accommodate them.

He knew that Kathryn had doubts about her ability to command and parent at the same time. He did not share them. If there was one thing they had learned in the Delta quadrant, it was how to cope. They would manage.

His thoughts were becoming circular, he realized. He needed a change of scene, shake things up a little bit. Maybe that would help.

Without planning it, he found himself headed for Sickbay. Much to his relief, the Doctor was there alone. "May I talk to you privately?" he asked. It felt a little odd; he had never consulted the Doctor on anything other than a physical ailment. He needed to talk, though, and there was no one else to be trusted with this.

"Have a seat," the Doctor said. "I gather the Captain has advised you of her situation."

"You gather correctly." He tried to order his thoughts. "It’s not that I don’t believe her, it’s just that it is so incredible."

"The Captain had a similar reaction," he replied. "She was quite adamant that it was not possible."

"It shouldn’t be possible," Chakotay said. "Look, I’ll be blunt. Kathryn and I have never had intimate relations. And don’t try to convince me that something happened on Lenash that I don’t remember."

The Doctor sighed. "I don’t know what to tell you. Of course, it was a fertility rite; perhaps the Lenash have some sophisticated techniques we don’t understand. Unless we turn around and ask them, we can only speculate. All we have is the indisputable fact that the Captain is pregnant and your DNA as well as hers are identifiable in the fetus."

Chakotay rubbed his temples, trying to beat back a headache. "This is very hard to accept."

"I’m sure," he said. "Would it help to see the test results for yourself? The Captain authorized me to discuss them with you."

He nodded, and the Doctor pulled the records up and turned the monitor around. "Here," he said. "This is the key DNA sequence. On this ship, that pattern could come only from you."

But Chakotay was not looking at the DNA sequence. He was looking at the image of the fetus in the womb, recorded hours earlier. His face clouded as he watched its movements. "It really is alive, isn’t it?"

"That’s long been a matter for philosophers," the Doctor replied. "It’s certainly not sentient yet but the potential is there. I understand your feelings, Commander. On the other hand, you have to keep in mind that the Captain was not a willing participant in the creation of this fetus. She didn’t gamble and lose on contraceptives; she took no knowing steps to bring this about. In some ways, it is akin to rape."

He looked up, eyes flashing angrily. "I did not rape her."

"I didn’t mean to imply you did," the Doctor assured him quickly. "What I mean is that this situation has been forced upon her, just as it is when pregnancy results from rape. Our society has recognized the legitimacy of termination of the pregnancy under such circumstances."

Chakotay’s fingers brushed against the small image on the screen. For no discernible reason, he thought of the last time he stood on Trebus, standing in the midst of the death and destruction that had once been his home. "It’s so damned ironic," he said softly.

"Commander?"

"This is the second time I’ve been told I’m going to be a father without sleeping with the mother," he said bitterly. "When Seska told me that, do you know what I thought? I wished it was Kathryn instead." He laughed once, harshly.

The Doctor leaned back and looked at him with compassion. "I don’t mean to pry, Commander, but it has long seemed to me that you harbor some deep feelings for the Captain."

For a moment, he resisted discussing it. He hadn’t talked about it for a long time, and never with anyone other than Kathryn herself. But right now, he needed to talk. "I thought I hid it better than that. Besides, we agreed a long time ago that we could be only friends, at least as long as we’re in the Delta quadrant."

"It isn’t easy, is it – being _just_ the best friend of the woman you love," the Doctor said with such empathy that Chakotay looked up in surprise. "I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice. You’ve got an opportunity here. Neither of you would have wished for this situation, but since it’s here, make the most of it. If you want the Captain, if you want this child, tell her so. For what it’s worth, I believe she feels as you do but is far more reluctant to admit it."

"If it were just us, it might be different," Chakotay said, as much to himself as to the Doctor. "But how can we go forward with a baby when we’ve told the rest of the crew they can’t – and some of them long-committed couples? It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. And if we change policy, we’ll be stretching the ship’s resources even more."

"I believe that is about to become a moot point," the Doctor said dryly. He handed a padd to Chakotay. "As fertility rites go, whatever you did on Lenash was amazingly potent. Seven other members of the crew are twelve weeks pregnant – despite, I might add, their consistent use of the best contraceptives available. We’re about to become a generation ship, ready or not."

He stared at the report without reading it. "Uh…do any of them have the same, um, mysterious circumstances, as the Captain and I?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, you seem to be the only incidence of," he seemed to search for the right term, and settled on, "spontaneous osmosis. Although, now that I think of it, they are all Maquis-Starfleet pairings.”

"Does the Captain know about this?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Not yet. I just finished the report as you came in." He inclined his head. "Perhaps you should be the one to tell her."

"Yes," Chakotay said, trying to assimilate the ramifications of this news. "Yes, I will." He stood. "Thank you, Doctor."

"My pleasure," replied the hologram.

As he left Sickbay, Chakotay contacted Kathryn through the commlink and told her he was coming to talk with her. "Ship’s business," he said, before she could try to beg off.

She was still in her quarters, in just about the same place where he had left her earlier. "You need to see this report," he said, handing her the Doctor’s padd. "We’ve got a total of eight pregnant crew, including you. It’s the beginning of a baby boom, Kathryn. We’re going to have to make changes in policy, and not just for us.”

"Eight," she repeated faintly. Her eyes quickly scanned the report. "My god. Does ‘Lenash’ mean ‘unstoppable sperm’ and the translator missed it?"

He laughed, heartened that she could respond to this with humor, and she looked so chagrined that he knew she hadn’t meant to say that out loud. "This means families, and family quarters, and day care arrangements. Once word gets out, there are others who have been waiting to start their families. It’s inevitable now."

"I suppose so," she said, not sounding at all happy about the prospect. "Well, the galaxy-class ships managed, so we can find a way." She set the padd down on her work table and sat.

He sat in the chair opposite her. "We always do." He took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought through all of it, but there wasn’t time. What he had to say was best said quickly. "Kathryn, I want to talk to you."

She looked up, and then suddenly looked afraid, as if she knew what was coming. "Please don’t," she said quickly.

"You need to hear this," he insisted. "I told you before, I’ll support any decision you make, and I meant it. But it will break my heart if you terminate this pregnancy. I want this baby, almost as much as I want you. I don’t care that we didn’t plan it."

Kathryn drew a sharp breath. "You didn’t say that before."

"I know. I’ve had a chance to think about it." He wanted to reach for her hand, but sensed that touching her now would be a mistake. "I’ve spent a lot of years damping down my feelings for you, trying to pretend it was friendship."

"We are friends," she protested.

"Yes," he agreed, "and more." He walked over to her chair and hunkered down beside it, being careful not to touch her. "I know how hard this is for you. But when I look back at my life, the only decisions I regret are the ones I made in anger and death. The best ones didn’t have much more behind them that hope and trust – like deciding to be your first officer."

"It’s not that simple," she said in little more than a whisper.

"Yes, it is," he said quiet force. "You can terminate the pregnancy out of anger, and call it duty, or you can keep the baby and marry me, and we can raise it together. Maybe even make another one the old-fashioned way."

"Marry?" she said, shocked. “That seems – we don’t have to. We can still raise the child together.”

"Call it a leap of faith," he said, smiling. "We’ll need to show the crew that we’re committed to a stable relationship. We can do it, Kathryn, I know in my heart we can. We’ve had seven years to learn how to do it."

"That’s no reason to get married," she snapped.

Satisfied that he had her full attention, he stood. "No, we should get married because I love you, and I think that you love me, if you’d only admit it."

She stood, stunned, and tried to speak. No words came. He took a step toward her and she waved him back. "It’s too much," she finally said. "Two days ago, everything was normal. Today I’m pregnant after 7 years of celibacy, my best friend says he loves me and my first officer wants to marry me. It’s too damn much."

"It’s a lot," he agreed, and realized that she was very close to breaking down. "Just think about it, Kathryn, please." He headed for the door. "Remember what Lucky told us? To have faith. What if that baby is Lucky? Can we let her down?"

That felt like a low blow, partly because she’d been thinking the same thing ever since the Doctor had confirmed that Chakotay was her child’s father. "You’re not playing fair," she said.

"I don’t want to play fair," he told her. "There’s too much to lose. I love you, Kathryn. Please trust that."

She watched him leave, and stood there for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. Then she went to her bathroom sink and ran cold water, splashing it on her face. Maybe we’ll get lucky, she thought darkly, and the Borg will come assimilate us all tonight and I won’t have to worry about this anymore.  
*

Tuvok said nothing when he read the message on his screen. Commander Chakotay had returned to the bridge before alpha shift ended but had been preoccupied and distant. That, combined with the Captain’s absence, convinced Tuvok that something was wrong. The message from Janeway, asking to meet with him when the duty shift ended, was not a surprise.

She came to his office, and in a concise and unemotional way, briefed him on the current situation. He judged it implausible but not impossible. At the time of the event on Lenash, he had experienced an instinctual alarm that he had not been able to articulate clearly. In light of the Captain’s revelation, he believed he now understood it.

"Have you decided what you are going to do?" he asked her.

"No," she said, and he saw that she was clearly divided in her thoughts. "On the one hand, I always thought I would have a child someday. And I don’t know how to tell Chakotay, who has lost every other member of his family, that this one won’t be born." She stood and paced nervously. "On the other hand, I have to think about my obligation to this ship and crew. And to the child, for that matter. I don’t think I can do justice to both responsibilities." She stopped and looked at him. "I trust your judgment. What do you think I should do?"

He looked at her solemnly. "My opinion doesn’t matter here. Yours is the only one that counts."

"Please," she said, trying visibly to control her emotions. "I need help here."

"Then let us work through the issue," he said. "I would begin with the assumption that life is the favored state, and that any contrary position must be justified. Is that correct?"

She considered for a moment. "Yes."

"Then, the principal argument against life is that pregnancy and the subsequent responsibilities of motherhood would impair your ability to command," he said. "Are we in agreement?"

Again, she considered. "Yes."

"This argument is divided into three parts. First, that pregnancy itself would create physical restrictions that would affect your fitness for command. Second, that the responsibilities of motherhood would conflict with the responsibilities of command. Third, that the birth of this child would conflict with stated ship’s policy against adding to the ship’s population through childbirth."

A slow nod. "Yes, that summarizes it."

He steepled his fingers together, a sign that he was marshalling his logic. "The first seems exaggerated. The Doctor has told you that the pregnancy should be unremarkable. You should be able to function without limitation almost until delivery. The disruption thereafter would be largely a matter of personal choice."

She drew a breath, looked uncertain. "Yes, but there are no guarantees of that. Complications could set in at any time. And can you see me taking the ship into battle when I’m eight months gone and big as a house?"

"Sacajawea, the namesake of our shuttle, led the Lewis and Clark expedition on your planet when she was ‘eight months gone and big as a house,’" he reminded her. "As Captain, you have considerably less exposure than she did. For example, you are not permitted away missions until the safety of the mission has been confirmed. The risk of battle is one you face, pregnant or not."

Kathryn looked at him, floored. "Why does it sound so easy when you say it?"

"Logic," he stated. "Let us look at the third issue next. From what you tell me, the ship’s policy on childbirth is about to be challenged. Indeed, the policy will have to be changed unless you intend to order involuntary termination of these pregnancies."

"Of course not," she protested.

"That leaves only your second concern," he went on, "and I can offer no logical response to it. I can only speak to you as a parent. Before the birth of my first child, I, too, wondered if I could manage the responsibilities of my career and my obligations to my spouse and parents, and still be an adequate father to my child. I believe this is a common doubt of all new parents. What I discovered is that if one is willing to make the effort, there is room in life for all of these things. It is not easy. But it is possible."

She looked at him shrewdly. "Vulcans don’t endorse the termination of pregnancy, do they?"

"Only under very limited circumstances," he acknowledged, "however, your situation would fall within those parameters."

There was another long silence. He was quite comfortable with it; silence was often an indication of thoughtfulness. Finally, she said, "Chakotay has suggested that we marry and raise the child together."

He nodded. "This is not surprising, given the obvious nature of the Commander’s feelings toward you, and yours for him."

Kathryn almost choked. "Obvious?"

"Well," he said modestly, "perhaps only to me. I am a keen observer of humanity, as you know. There is still much I do not understand. For example, I gather that in spite of your feelings, you have reservations about such a union."

"Don’t you?" she asked, astonished. "The implications for the command structure are staggering."

"That also seems an exaggeration," he said calmly. "You and the Commander have been close friends for the past six and half years. You have already confronted the complications that arise from such a relationship between leaders and learned to deal with them."

Kathryn leaned back in her chair. "Do you really mean that? Oh, never mind, of course you do. But Tuvok, as my friend, and as a married man, what do you think? Does it have a chance?"

He thought of T’Pel, and he actually smiled - a small, private smile but real nonetheless. "Captain … Kathryn. There are no guarantees, not for Vulcans any more than for Humans. If we are very lucky, we find the person who was meant to complete us and be our mate. If we are very wise, we cast aside our doubts and commit to the relationship. And then, if we are very diligent, we make it work. That is all that we can do."

For the first time since the Doctor took her into her ready room, she felt her heart lift. "One last question. When Lucky was on board, did you have a theory as to her parentage?"

At the time, he had skillfully avoided the answer to that question. Now he looked her in the eye. "I had no doubt," he said, "that she was your daughter, and the Commander’s."

Kathryn smiled. "Thank you, my friend," she said, rising. "You’ve given me a lot to think about."  
*

The Prixin celebration began without the presence of the Captain. Neelix was not really expecting her after their earlier conversation, and as he predicted Commander Chakotay had stepped in and handled the opening ritual. The Commander seemed preoccupied, though, and his heart wasn’t really in the ceremony. When his part was done, he moved to one corner of the mess hall and stood in an isolation that was clearly desired.

B’Elanna Torres stood in the opposite corner, frowning as she studied her friend. Tom Paris brought her a glass of syntheholic wine and said, "Hey. This is supposed to be a party."

"Look at him," she said quietly, inclining her head toward Chakotay. While they watched, Terry Jenkins tried to pull him over to join a group, but he waved her off with a forced smile. "That’s not like him. He usually enjoys Prixin."

Tom frowned, too. "He’s been like that all day. And the Captain didn’t bother to come to the bridge at all." He put his arm around her, a perfectly acceptable public gesture of affection at a Prixin gathering. "I wonder if it’s strictly between the two of them, or if we’re going to get bad news at the staff meeting tomorrow."

She winced. "That must be it. I wonder what it will be this time – angry aliens, or dangerous natural phenomena?" Then she slipped out of his embrace and grabbed his hand. "Come on," she said with determination, tugging him behind her.

They walked over to Chakotay without speaking to anyone else, not even Harry or Seven whom they strode past. B’Elanna was unmistakably on a mission. "Hey," she said to Chakotay, "you’re looking glum."

"Subtle," Tom murmured.

"Sorry," Chakotay said. "I’ve got a lot on my mind."

"I can see that," B’Elanna said. "Want to talk about it? Two ears, no waiting."

He smiled. "Thanks, but no. It will work itself out."

Then the mess hall doors opened and the Captain came in, or rather, the Captain made an entrance. Like most of the partiers she was in civvies, a deep blue dress cut simply, that made her eyes stand out and flattered her figure. Her hair was swept back in a more formal style than usual, accented by a single white flower. Just inside the doorway she stopped, and her eyes searched the room. The three who knew she had been wrestling with a difficult decision saw at once that the decision had been made. There was no trace of the distraction or doubt of earlier in the day; she was calm and confident once more. Nothing in her demeanor gave a clue as to what the decision had been, however.

Her eyes found her quarry. With a fixed smile and many nods, she made her way through the crowd straight to the first officer. Chakotay stared at her, uncertain of what this meant.

She came to a halt directly in front of him. "Hello Tom, B’Elanna, happy Prixin," she said, not looking at them. To Chakotay she said, "You were right. I’m ready for that leap of faith if you are."

His eyes widened. "Here? Now?"

She smiled broadly. "Can you think of a better time? It is Prixin, after all. Everybody’s here, and Tuvok has command."

Chakotay’s own smile spread slowly. "There’s something I want to do first. Hold this, B’e," he said, handing his wine glass to B’Elanna. She took it with some confusion, and looked quickly at Tom to see if he understood any better than she. His expression was just as baffled.

By now, the room had hushed as everyone’s attention had turned to the two command officers. They all watched as the first officer cradled the Captain’s face in his hands. "I love you, Kathryn," he said softly, and she replied, "I love you," as he bent his head to kiss her. Almost immediately, the her arms encircled him and the space between them closed until there wasn’t room for a particle of light to separate them.

The silence of the room was broken by an occasional giggle or sigh, but the couple at the center of attention seemed oblivious to it all. The Doctor quickly snapped a holo-image for posterity. The kiss went on and on, until finally Tom Paris cleared his throat uncomfortably. The Captain stepped back, then turned around. The happiness on her face, matched by Chakotay, caused tears to sting B’Elanna’s eyes.

"Uh…happy Prixin," the Captain said, a little breathlessly. "We have a surprise for you all."

"Another one?" Harry Kim called out.

Chakotay grinned. "We know it’s not strictly traditional but – Neelix – we’d like to add a wedding to the festivities tonight."

"A wedding? A wedding?" Neelix repeated, so excited he could barely contain himself. "That’s wonderful! – a Prixin wedding is considered good luck – it’s wonderful."

His excitement was contagious, and the room began to buzz. Janeway called for their attention. "As of an hour ago, Chakotay and I are on 24-hour leave, and Tuvok is in command of the ship. I’ve asked him to perform the ceremony."

Tuvok stepped to the center of the room, an island of serenity in the midst of chaos. "If you are ready?"

She looked at Chakotay. "As we’ll ever be," she said. Together they moved in front of him. Tom and B’Elanna made sure they were nearest them on the right, along with Neelix, and the Doctor, Seven and Harry were closest on the left. The rest of the crew created a circle around them. "Wait!" Tom said suddenly. He reached into one of the large floral arrangements decorating the room and pulled out a long-stemmed rose. "Every bride should have flowers," he said, suddenly feeling shy.

She touched his hand in gratitude as she accepted it. Then she turned to Chakotay.

B’Elanna squeezed Tom’s hand and whispered, "You’re such a romantic."

Tuvok began, pitching his voice so that it could be heard easily throughout the room. "We are gathered here to serve as witnesses to the marriage of Kathryn and Chakotay, who today declare their intent to live together, from this day forward, as husband and wife."

Tom recognized the "short form" Starfleet marriage rite. He had heard his father perform it more than once. It wasn’t the most romantic of the approved ceremonies, but somehow it seemed right for these two. He smiled and tightened his grip on B’Elanna’s hand.

"Kathryn, Chakotay, do you take each other as spouse, as partner and as helpmate, friend and lover, to live in trust and honor for all your days together?"

They looked at each other, no hesitation in either of them. "We do," they said together.

"Will you love one another, support one another in hardship, forgive one another in error, and comfort one another in sorrow?"

"We will."

"Do you pledge your continuing loyalty to this crew, recognizing that your duty to them is as sacred as your duty to each other?"

Tom was startled. That was not part of the ritual. He didn’t think the happy couple was expecting it either, but they both smiled as they responded. "We do," they said, still in unison.

"Then let the exchange of rings symbolize the promises you have made here today."

"Rings?" Kathryn repeated. She had forgotten all about rings in the euphoria of her decision.

"Rings?" Chakotay repeated, berating himself for not being prepared.

"Rings," Tuvok repeated, and opened his left hand to reveal two simple gold bands. Kathryn glowed at her old friend, and they each picked a ring and slid it on the other’s finger.

Tuvok continued, "Then, with the authority vested rather temporarily in me, I accept your declaration on behalf of those assembled here and acknowledge you to be husband and wife. You may kiss the bride – again."

"Wait!" Neelix’s cry interrupted the groom’s intent. "I don’t mean to intrude, but this is a Prixin wedding, and there is a special blessing for occasion we just can’t overlook." He carefully took the rose from the Captain’s hand and gave it to Seven, then placed both of the Captain’s hands in Chakotay’s. Then he sandwiched them between his own hands.

"In the midst of family, you begin your family," he pronounced, clearing his throat once. "May your nights be brightened by undying love, may your days be lightened by shared laughter, your enemies frightened by the strength of two, your joys heightened by children hereafter." His eyes were awash with emotion. "In the midst of family, you begin your family." Then he stepped back.

"Thank you, Neelix," Kathryn said softly, and kissed his cheek.

"Hey, not him," Tom joked. "Kiss your husband!"

She turned back to Chakotay, who looked around the room. "Anyone else?" he asked good naturedly, not expecting any more interruptions.

"Well, yes," Gerron said, and came forward. "As long as we are celebrating family – family weddings – there’s a Bajoran tradition we used in the Maquis." He motioned for everyone to join hands in a circle around the couple and began to sing. A few of the other former Maquis joined in, forming three-part harmony. The words were a simple blessing, but the melody was exquisite, and Gerron’s clear tenor was heartbreaking.

Chakotay’s arm slipped around Kathryn’s waist. "I think," he whispered, "that we are well and truly married."

"You better kiss me now," she whispered back, "before we find out about Bolian traditions."

He tilted her chin up with one hand and kissed her, almost reverently. The song finished and dissolved into applause. They both looked about and smiled. "Thank you all," Kathryn said.

"Yes," Chakotay said. "Thanks, and I hope you’ll stay and have a great party. We only have 22 hours of leave remaining." He headed for the door, holding tight to Kathryn’s hand. Seven managed to return the rose to her as she went by, laughing.

"There should have been rice," Harry complained as they disappeared out of the mess hall.

"No." the Doctor said with a private smile. "No, Ensign, this was just perfect."


	4. Stolen Dreams

Three Months After Prixin

  
The starship _Voyager_ hovered in parking orbit about a thousand kilometers from a space station at the edge of the Ventrax Oligarchy, waiting for orders. Alpha shift had begun and the senior crew were all at their posts, with one exception: the Captain. The Captain was nearly ten minutes late. The First Officer, who had conducted an early meeting with the Gamma shift department heads, was beginning to look concerned when the turbolift doors opened.

As Captain Janeway stepped onto the bridge, she paused and looked around to see if anyone snickered. She was wearing a maternity uniform for the first time, and she felt not only conspicuous but also uncomfortably as if she were making Starfleet history. Weeks of research had convinced her that she was, or would be, the first captain to retain command during an entire pregnancy. The very few others who had found themselves in this position had taken an assignment at HQ during the second trimester and returned to their ships after the birth.

An HQ assignment was not an option for her.

She had every intention of retaining command as long as possible - with any luck, right up to the moment labor began. So far, she had not suffered any complications more serious than a little fatigue – no morning sickness, no wild cravings. The baby was not going to slow her down or interfere with her duty; on that point, she was determined.

Admitting the necessity of the maternity uniform had been difficult. As long as she was in the standard uniform, she could pretend that nothing had really changed. Not even the increasing discomfort of the past two weeks had been enough to push her to the new uniform. It was only this morning, when her trousers refused to close and her jacket could not be zipped that she was forced to give in to reality.

She was indeed pregnant.

No one on the bridge was even close to snickering. From the Operations station, Harry Kim smiled at her, but that was no different than any other morning when she took her station. Ayala, standing in for Tuvok at Tactical, was as stoic as usual. Tom Paris, looking tired, barely noticed her.

Poor Tom, she thought. As soon the "no-baby" policy had been rescinded, four more crew had come forward with the news they had conceived while the ship was in orbit around Lenash. B’Elanna was one of them. The twelve expectant mothers and their partners, quickly dubbed the "Baby Brigade" by Harry Kim, were all dealing with sudden upheaval in their lives, but Tom and B'Elanna had more adjustment than most of the others. Not only was she pregnant, but she was carrying twins. That, and the fact that it was a cross-species birth, made her the most at-risk of the twelve expectant mothers on board. Tom was apparently not getting much sleep these days.

Finally, she turned to Chakotay, and was perversely pleased to see that he looked surprised, and a little apprehensive. Just last night he had encouraged her to dress more comfortably. "You'll feel better," he had said.

"I feel just fine. Have I said anything to make you think otherwise? Have I complained about anything?" She had been angry, far angrier than the situation warranted. "I'm the one having this baby, dammit, so don't tell me how to do it."

He had backed off, and later, as they lay in bed, she apologized. "I think it's the hormones. And sometimes…I'm still not sure I believe this, Chakotay. Sometimes it doesn't seem real."

His arms folded around her and he held her close. "I know. It's harder for you than for me, I think. You never asked for this, but for me…you and the baby are all my dreams, wrapped up together."

The tenderness in his voice almost brought her to tears, and she snuggled her face against the comfort of his chest. "I love you. It's just…"

"I know." He smoothed her hair. "I've got an idea. If Tuvok gets things settled at the Ventrax station, let's take a few days shore leave. We never had a real honeymoon. A little time away from the ship would do us both good."

"Let's wait and see," she replied after a moment. She wasn't certain how she felt about the idea. "There's no point in making plans until we know if we can access the station."

_No wonder he looks apprehensive now,_ she thought as she walked to the command chair. _He probably wonders if I'm going to_ _snap his head off or burst into tears. Or both._

He was watching her closely as she approached. Before she sat, she smoothed the tunic and winked at him. His anxiety melted into a broad smile so quickly that she couldn't help smiling herself. "My apologies, Commander. I was detained."

"Certainly, Captain."

I want a cup of coffee. Just one, small, strong cup of coffee. The Doctor had scratched that and all caffeine from her menu for the duration of the pregnancy. No wonder I'm cranky. "Have we heard from Tuvok yet?"

"He and Neelix are still meeting with Station Manager Mergy. Neelix called in about an hour ago, said things were going well." Chakotay leaned toward her, lowering his voice. "Have you given any thought to my suggestion?"

She had thought of little else all night. The Ventraxi station was reported to be an excellent site for entertainment and relaxation as well as trade, and the hostelries were said to be superb. Tuvok and Neelix were negotiating shore leave for the crew as well as trade rights. The prospect of a few days off was tempting, but she didn't want it to look like she actually needed the time away from duty. It might be interpreted as weakness. "Yes, but let's see what Tuvok has to say."

"Tuvok is hailing," Harry Kim said as if on cue.

Kathryn raised her eyebrows at the coincidental timing of the communication. Chakotay raised his hands, the picture of innocence. She shook her head. "On screen, Harry."

Tuvok's face filled the viewscreen. She knew immediately that he had good news; others might not realize it, but there were always subtle signals in Tuvok's face. When the news was good, his forehead was relaxed even if he was frowning. "Captain, I am pleased to report that we have come to terms with Station Manager Mergy. We are cleared for docking at Port 5-Epsilon. Also, we may schedule shore leave for groups of thirty at a time over the next several days. Manager Mergy has agreed to an amount of credit for the astrometric data we offered which I understand to be sufficient to cover the costs of the leave, including room and board for anyone so inclined."

She turned to Chakotay. He was staring straight ahead, carefully not looking at her.

"Good work, Tuvok." Kathryn turned away from her husband and made a decision. "Ask Neelix to take charge of provisioning, and then return to the ship. You'll need to assume command while the first officer and I take shore leave."

"Understood. I had anticipated such a possibility and took the liberty of arranging quarters for you. A room at the Starview Hostelry has been reserved in your names."

  
She started to reply, but the screen went dark. Technically, it was not insubordination; she had ordered his return. Tuvok was rarely so abrupt, though. "Why do I have the feeling that I've been set up?"

Chakotay was wise enough to say nothing.

*

Three hours later, Kathryn and Chakotay strolled down the area of the station known as the Gallery. Small stands and kiosks lined one side of the corridor while the other was completely open, affording a stupendous view of the stars. Dressed in civilian clothes and holding hands, they blended in perfectly with the Ventraxi that composed the majority of the Station's population.

"You haven't said much," Chakotay said to her. "Do you like the room?"

"It's spectacular." It would be hard to call it anything else. The Station served as a vacation destination for many worlds of the Oligarchy, and the Starview was the most luxurious of the many hotels available. Their suite was large and comfortable, with a view of space and a huge bathtub.

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I just feel like being quiet."

He looked as if he wanted to dispute that, but then he changed his mind. They walked in silence, now and again looking at the wares displayed by the kiosks. Suddenly he pulled her over to one of the stands. It seemed to be overflowing with toys.

"Look at this," he said, a broad smile on his face. He picked up a stuffed animal that looked remarkably familiar to her. "It's a teddy bear."

It wasn't just a teddy bear, Kathryn realized with a start. It was _the_ teddy bear, the one that Lucky had brought with her from the future. Or at least, it was the bear that the Doctor had used as the template for the form he took when he came with Lucky. A brown bear, with blue eyes and a red ribbon around its neck. She took it from him in wonder. "Oh. It's the one, isn't it?"

The owner, sensing a sale, leaned forward. She was an older woman, with curly gray hair and twinkling eyes. From appearances, she could have been a Human; any outward distinctions between Ventraxi and Humans were very hard to find. "Lovely workmanship, isn't it? And sturdy, guaranteed to last through the hardiest childhood. My great-aunt Jyl back on Bentre Colony makes them, and she raised five children. They all still have their Lucky Charms."

They looked at each other in surprise. The coincidence of her words seemed to transform the moment into something magical, somehow destined.

The look did not go unnoticed. "Ah, waiting for your own blessing, I see. How fortunate. You should have a Charm for your little one."

Kathryn looked at the bear she held and ran one hand over it. Its plush "fur" was soft and silky, inviting to the touch. She nodded to Chakotay.

"We'll take it." He counted out the credits for the purchase.

The owner smiled with so much pleasure that Kathryn suspected that they could have haggled down the price. "A good purchase. Your child will treasure it."

Kathryn was about to acknowledge that fact, but her stomach spoke before she did. The rumble came without warning and was loud enough for both Chakotay and the proprietor to hear. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, my, the little one is hungry," the woman laughed. "What a good sign. Perhaps I can recommend a place to eat."

"Please," Chakotay said.

"Go to the Red Door Tavern on Level 6. I warn you, it doesn't look like much but the food is excellent. And they have a beverage that most hopeful mothers love – it has no caffeine but tastes like the finest morning brew."

Kathryn's eyes lit up. "Really?"

She nodded. "Tell Ches – the owner - that Rina sent you. He'll take good care of you."

"Thank you."

Rina smiled. "It's my pleasure. We see so few hopeful mothers. Good fortune to you."

It took them only a few minutes to reach Level 6, but the change in ambiance was so dramatic that it might as well have been years. The Gallery was clean, quiet and well-behaved. Level 6 was dark and dingy, and bustling with an enthusiasm that had been absent above. The clientele was different, too. Unlike the stylish shoppers they had been mingling with, the population on this level was scruffy and unkempt.

Kathryn had been to enough space stations to recognize that this was the freighter's deck, the rough and tumble area for crew just in from long bouts in space. She wasn't at all worried; in fact, the raw energy of the place appealed to her more than the dully correct atmosphere of the Gallery. With a broad smile, she pulled Chakotay through the red door which, other than the sign showing a tankard of ale, was the only marker for the tavern. "Come on."

Once inside, they stopped. Rina had been right, it didn't look like much. The room was so dark it was hard to see, but they made out a long bar where every stool was filled, and a few Spartan tables and hard back chairs that did not appear at all comfortable.

A man with rust-colored hair and a three-day stubble that was silvery white came over to them. "I'm Ches," he said. "Are you folks in the right place?"

"Rina sent us," Kathryn said eagerly. "She told us you have the best food on the station."

"And," Chakotay added, "a certain beverage without caffeine."

Ches looked at Kathryn more closely. "Oh, I see. Congratulations. Yeah, I've got an old family recipe for hopeful mothers. Come on, I've got a table in the back. You can have a little privacy."

Feeling in the best mood she had experienced in days, Kathryn followed, clutching the teddy bear to her chest. Ches took them to the back of the tavern and sat them in a private booth. "I'll be right back."

She settled on the bench and looked up to find Chakotay studying her thoughtfully. "What?"

"Nothing. It's good to see you relax, that's all."

"I am relaxing," she said with some surprise. "I guess I didn't realize how tense I was."

"Here we are," Ches said, reappearing with two mugs in hand. "My mother's hot jamocha. I guarantee you'll love this."

"Wonderful. Have you got a menu? We need some food, too."

"Of course. I'll be back. Enjoy the jamocha."

Kathryn took a small sip. It was just barely hot, and at first taste very like coffee, although extremely sweet. "What do you think?"

He sipped gingerly. "It's a little sweet."

"Yes, but you know what? I don't think I care." She took a larger sip, then another. "It's almost coffee."

He tried a little more himself. "It's too sweet for me."

She looked up, intending to say that she would finish his for him, but somehow the words wouldn't come out. He seemed to be swaying in his seat, and the edges of her vision were turning gray and sparkly. Chakotay, she tried to say but before the thought could become a command to her vocal cords, the sparkles engulfed her vision and she fell forward. She felt her head strike the table and heard another thunk nearby before she lost consciousness completely.

*

"You do not seem to understand," Tuvok said with all the patience he could muster. "Our Captain and First Officer have been missing for over 24 hours."

From the viewscreen, Station Manager Voes Mergy waved a hand. "Well, I couldn't do much about it then, could I? You didn't tell me until an hour ago."

"We did not know they were missing until then. I am requesting that you initiate a search now."

"And I have done that. Three security officers are looking for them."

"With all due respect, Manager, that does not seem sufficient to conduct a timely search."

Mergy shrugged. "It's standard procedure. I can't commit more resources until we have confirmed that your people are just off an their own. This was a honeymoon for them, didn't you say?"

"Yes, but I assure you, Captain Janeway would not fail to check in as scheduled unless she were being prevented from doing so. If you cannot commit your own resources, I am happy to volunteer personnel from _Voyager_ to supplement your staff."

"Out of the question." Mergy leaned closer to the screen. "This station is the sole property of the Ventraxi Oligarchy, and any unauthorized security force will be considered a violation of access conditions and possibly an act of armed aggression."

"We have no intention of coming aboard without authorization. I am simply requesting that you give us permission."

"Oh." Mergy leaned back. "Well, I can't do that. I mean, I'm only a manager. You have to talk to a superintendent for that."

"Then I request that you put me in touch with a superintendent."

"I can't do that, either. All contacts with superintendents must come through a manager."

Tuvok stared the screen for five full seconds before speaking again. He needed the time to master his rising anger. "Have you made such a contact?"

"Well, no. Why would I?"

"Because I am requesting it."

"Oh. You should have been more clear. If that's what you want, I'll contact Superintendent Lerstev. He has jurisdiction for the Station."

Tuvok inclined his head. "Thank you." He paused. "If we cannot assist you in the physical search, we may be of use in reviewing records of your security cameras."

"Yes. Well. That could be a problem. The records are routinely purged after 24 hours. They may no longer exist."

"I see. Please notify me at once if you learn anything." He made a gesture to Harry Kim, who ended the transmission.

Tom Paris made a rude sound. "Of all the petty bureaucrats…"

"Yes." Tuvok's face was set in a deep frown.

"What are we going to do?" Kim asked. "We aren’t going to let him get away with that, are we?"

"We cannot send a security team. That would likely result in our expulsion from the station, and that would severely compromise our ability to locate the Captain and the Commander. For the moment, we must appear to be resigned to the bureaucracy." Tuvok steepled his fingers in thought for a moment, then stood. "Mr. Kim, I want you to make contact with all of our personnel currently on the station. Ask them to … keep their eyes open. Discreetly, of course. There must be no incidents."

"Understood."

"And then, Mr. Kim, I want you to run a deep level scan of the station."

Harry looked up in surprise. "But sir – won't that violate the access agreement?"

"Only if they learn of it." Tuvok looked at him blandly. "Are you up to the challenge?"

"Yes, sir."

*

Kathryn woke abruptly, passing from unconsciousness to full alert in the space of a heartbeat. At first, she was disoriented, expecting to be in her own bed and realizing that she wasn’t in a bed at all, but lying on a cold, hard surface. Alarmed, she sat up and saw that Chakotay was sprawled on the floor beside her.

A quick touch of his hand assured her that he was warm and alive. Leaning close to his ear, she tried to wake him. "Chakotay. Chakotay, do you hear me?"

The transition to consciousness was as sudden for him as it had been for her. His eyes flew open and he sat up. "What happened? Where are we?"

"I don’t know. The last thing I remember, we were on the Ventraxi space station."

He nodded. "We went into a tavern and tried their version of decaff. Then…that’s all. I don’t remember."

"Neither do I. The coffee must have been drugged. I remember, it was so sweet it was cloying." She leaned back, listening. "Hear that? We're near a power source, probably engines. I think we’re on a ship of some kind."

His mouth set in a thin line. "Kathryn, I think we’ve been shanghaied."

Her expression turned grim. It was a tradition as old as ships; captains in need of crew would abduct unwilling or unsuspecting sailors and force them into service. On Earth in past centuries, the military called it "impressment" and merchants called it "recruiting" but the sailors themselves named it after the port where it occurred most often, Shanghai. The practice was not unique to Earth or to sea-going ships. The Orions had turned it into an art form in the last century, before Starfleet put a stop to it.

She rose to her feet and began to pace. A bubble of anger began to grow in her chest. "It’s almost cliché, isn’t it? That friendly toy seller, the out-of-the-way tavern, the 'old family recipe.' If we saw it in a holo-vid, we’d be howling with laughter. We should have seen it coming." Her hands clenched into fists. "My god, a first year cadet could have spotted it. What were we thinking?"

"We were thinking that we could find a decent cup of coffee," he said mildly. "Stop kicking yourself. It’s bad for the baby and it’s a waste of time. We need to think about how we’re going to get out of here."

The bubble of anger started its way up her throat and then burst harmlessly. She took a deep breath, and laid a hand on her expanded waist. "You’re right." Her eyes fell on his chest. "They didn’t take our commbadges."

"They may not know who we are. Or they don’t care." He hit his badge. "Chakotay to _Voyager_." There was no response.

"We’re probably out of range." She leaned against the wall of the cell and ran her hands over the gleaming surface. It felt slick, almost frictionless, and its coolness helped calm her. "We need more information."

Before he could reply, a voice echoed in the room. It was either artificial or electronically modified, and was set at an uncomfortably high volume. "Step away from the door."

Wincing, Chakotay moved to stand beside Kathryn. The door slid upward, and a man walked in. He was not armed, but the two who stood behind him were.

The man smiled as he looked at them, but it was obviously to gloat rather than put them at ease. He was not much taller than Chakotay, but thin to the point of gauntness. His pants, boots and shirt were unrelieved, deep gray that contrasted with his short silver hair and made him seem even taller. It wasn’t his clothing or his build that made him seem intimidating, though. It was the aura of authority that emanated from him, an aura that told Kathryn that this was a man with power.

He walked back in forth in front of them, looking them over. He slapped a thin baton in his hand as he studied them. Kathryn had the distinct impression that he was trying to spook them into speaking first, and she had no intention of being spooked. She folded her arms across her chest and waited. Chakotay stood unmoving but tensed beside her.

"Very good," the man said at last. "No hysterics, no threats of violence. I’m impressed."

"There doesn’t seem to be much point," Chakotay said. "You’ll tell us what you want us to know."

"Quite right." The calm acceptance seemed to knock him off his stride a little, Kathryn noticed with satisfaction. Then without warning, he struck Chakotay across the face with the baton forcefully enough to open a cut on his cheek and send him staggering back.

With a gasp, Kathryn reached to help him, but he shook off her assistance. Ignoring the blood on his face, he looked squarely at their captor. "Why?"

"A lesson. My name is Maygar. Remember it. The two of you have just entered the Ventraxi workforce as laborers under my supervision. My personal and constant supervision. If you please me, you will survive quite nicely. If you displease me, you will not. It is that simple."

"I don’t understand."

"That was clear enough. You will now be taken to your work areas. Work well during the day, and you will be reunited at night."

Instinctively, Chakotay's arm went around Kathryn. "No."

Before Maygar could react, she said quickly, "Yes." Giving her husband a hard look, she went on, "We'll do as we're told. You heard him, we'll be together tonight."

"Your hopeful mother is wise. I suggest you listen to her." Maygar slapped the baton against his hand again. "You will be of no use to her or your child if you do not."

Chakotay took a long breath, then nodded.

"Good. What is your name?"

"Chakotay."

"Unusual. Nobia Province, I expect. Go with this guard, Chakotay. And your name, hopeful mother?

"Kathryn."

"Also unusual. Go with that guard, Kathryn. Work hard, both of you, and obey, and your baby will do well." His smile was malevolent as they left the cell.

*

"What exactly are we looking for, Neelix?" Naomi Wildman asked.

Neelix frowned slightly. "Well, anything really. Anything that might help us find the Captain and the Commander. Just keep your eyes open."

Naomi looked around the Gallery as they walked. There were so many shops, and so many people, she didn't know how they would ever find Captain Janeway. Then she stopped. "Neelix," she said in a low voice, "there's that woman again. She's following us."

Without looking down, Neelix spoke just loudly enough for her to hear. "Where is she?"

"To your right, over by that jewelry kiosk."

The Talaxian stopped walking and bent down, as if he were picking something up off the floor. "I see her. You're right, Naomi. It's the same woman."

"She keeps looking at me funny. It makes me nervous."

He nodded. This was the fourth time they had spotted the woman in the green dress in the past hour. She was definitely following them. "I think we should report this to Commander Tuvok. Let's go back to the turbolift."

Taking Naomi's hand firmly in his, they turned and started back. Suddenly a scream rang out in the Gallery. "My baby!" a woman yelled hysterically. "He's taking my little girl!"

They turned just in time to see the woman in the green run across the corridor and hurl herself at Naomi. The force of the impact knocked Neelix's hold loose and the woman and Naomi tumbled to the floor away from him.

Naomi began to scream. "Neelix! Neelix!"

The woman was crying. "My baby, my baby! Help me!"

Neelix tried to pry the woman loose, but she had Naomi locked in a death grip. A crowd surrounded them, making uneasy noises. "Somebody help me," Neelix said, shouting above the frantic woman to be heard. No one moved.

Two station security guards pushed their way through the ring of bystanders. One of them pulled Neelix away from the woman. "What's going on?"

"He was taking my baby!" the woman shouted, crushing Naomi against her.

"That's not true. We've never seen this woman before, have we, Naomi?"

"Leave the child out of it," the guard said angrily. "Do you claim this is your daughter?" His tone made it clear he would not believe such an assertion from Neelix.

"My goddaughter. We're from _Voyager_. You can ask Manager Mergy, he knows me."

"Yeah, everyone knows Mergy." The guard helped the woman to her feet. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

"I will be as soon as I get my baby to safety," she said.

"I am not your baby!" Naomi shouted, trying to push away. "Let me go. You're a crazy lady!"

The guards looked at each other uncertainly.

"He's done something to her!" the woman wailed. "My poor baby."

Neelix had just about enough. He hit his commbadge. "Neelix to _Voyager. _ Beam Ensign Wildman to this location, now. And I mean now!"

Whoever was on duty took him seriously, because he heard the shimmer of the transporter beam while his voice was still echoing. Sam Wildman took shape, and Naomi let out a whoop. "Mom!" She wrenched herself free of the woman in the green dress. She flung her arms around Sam and clung for dear life. "_This_ is my mother," she shouted tearfully at the guard. "This is _my mother_."

Sam held her daughter protectively. "Neelix, what's going on?"

"No," the woman in the green dress said. Her shoulders sagged and her face seemed to crumple. "No, it isn't fair. It isn't fair." She began to sob into her hands.

One of the guards put an arm around her and led her away. The other one turned to Sam and Naomi. "Sorry. Looks like another case of Premature Transition. We'll take care of her." He began to shoo the crowd away.

"Neelix, what happened? What was all that about?"

"I don't know, but we should get back to the ship." He smiled at Naomi, who was shaking visibly even as she held on to Sam. "I know I could use some hot chocolate. How about you?"

The girl nodded. Even though her chin was quivering, she did not cry. Neelix patted her head, smiled, and placed her between Sam and himself as they returned to the docking port.

*

The armed guard led Kathryn down the corridor to a turbolift and requested Beta Section. She said nothing, hoping she looked so cowed they would not watch her closely. In reality, she was trying to memorize as much as she could about the layout of the ship and its technology. The turbolift looked similar to those on the old Constitution-class ships, like the old_ USS Eagle_ that was still used in training simulations at the Academy. If the rest of the technology was of the same vintage, they might have a chance.

On Beta Section, she was taken to a large door and waited docilely while the guard disabled a force field. The controls were again similar to the antique ships used in training. She began to feel better about their situation; at least they did not have to deal with technology they did not understand.

The guard led her into a large room, about the size of a cargo bay. It was filled with tables, and most of them had four women sitting around them, working with some kind of equipment. "Misama," the guard called, and at the only table with one occupant, a woman lifted safety goggles to look at them. "Orient this new one. Her name is Kathryn."

Misama rose awkwardly. She was heavily pregnant, and waddled over to them. "Come with me," she said, keeping her eyes lowered. She took Kathryn to a cabinet and began opening drawers. "You'll need gloves, goggles, cleaning solution, and bins."

Kathryn did as she was told, but said, "I don't understand."

"This is the finishing room. It's our job to clean the stones so they can be graded."

"What stones?"

Misama cast a quick, frightened look at the guard. "Vicolumbite. Talking is discouraged."

Kathryn looked at the guard, who was still watching them. She gathered up her supplies and followed Misama back to the table. The dark-haired woman, who seemed to be about Kathryn's age, showed her quickly how to dip the dust-covered stones in the cleaning solution and wipe until they gleamed a deep, crystalline purple. The clean stones were then placed in one of four bins, depending on their size.

After about half an hour, the guard seemed satisfied and left the room. Misama relaxed at once. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't risk angering the guard. I'm too close to term to make them angry."

"I understand. But what are we doing here? Who is Maygar?"

"He runs this place. He's fair enough if you obey him but if you don't…" Misama shivered. "That's not his real name, of course, but no one knows who he really is. He's making a fortune in illegal vicolumbite." She held up a stone, examining it for any remaining trace of dirt. "Pretty, isn't it? So many people want it so badly that they're willing to pay anything for it."

Kathryn looked at the stone. It was beautiful, the color of an amethyst with the inner fire of a dilithium crystal. "Where does he get it?"

"I don't know, and I don't intend to ask." She leaned forward and spoke softly. "The only chance we have of getting out of here alive is if we don't know too much. Right now, there is nothing I could tell the authorities that would lead them to this ship even if I wanted to. I intend to keep it that way." Suddenly her face changed, and she put a hand on her belly. "Oh, that was a good one. He's getting anxious."

Kathryn stared at her. "Do you mean – was that a contraction?"

Misama smiled ruefully. "No, just a good, strong kick. He takes after Bry – my partner. He was a swimmer, back on Oria." Her expression turned sad. "All my life, I dreamed of having a baby. It took us so long…I dream about him now, you know? I'm holding him while he sleeps, and he wakes up and looks at me. His eyes are green, like Bry's, and when he smiles he looks just like him." She shook her head as if to shake out the thoughts. "Well, you know what I mean."

No, I don't, Kathryn thought. This baby isn't real to me. Why don't I feel more like she does? She smiled nervously, hiding her thoughts, and looked around the room.

For the first time, she realized that every woman in the room was pregnant. Many looked as close to term as Misama, others seemed only as far along as Kathryn herself. "This can't be a coincidence."

"Of course not. Only hopeful mothers and their partners can handle vicolumbite once it is freed from ore - that assures its powers of fertility." Her eyes narrowed, suddenly suspicious. "Where are you from?"

"Nobia," Kathryn said quickly, remembering Maygar's assumption. "I - I just never actually believed the legend, that's all."

"It must be true, or Maygar wouldn't dare kidnap us all. Careful, here's the guard. Just keep cleaning and don't speak unless you're spoken to first."

Kathryn glanced up, then quickly lowered her gaze. It was the same guard who had brought her to the room. So far, she realized, she had seen only two guards and Maygar. Was that a coincidence?  
*

Tuvok reminded himself that he was a master of the Kohlinar and more than capable of controlling his impatience. The reminder was necessary as he spoke once again with Station Manager Mergy. "The unfortunate incident on the Gallery simply proves that your security force is already quite busy."

"We’re doing everything we can." Mergy’s voice, which had merely grated before, became a nasal whine.

"I understand the limitations on your resources, but time is passing," Tuvok said. "Our officers have been missing for nearly two days. I renew my request to search the station with my own personnel."

"I told you, I can't authorize that."

"Then speak with someone who does."

"I have. Superintendent Mil Lerstev is on his way here."

Tuvok breathed in slowly through his mouth, exhaled through his nose. The Ventraxi station manager would try the patience of Surak himself. "You told me that yesterday."

"And it was true then, too. He's a day closer now."

"May we speak to him while he is en route?"

Manager Mergy smiled. It was very similar, Tuvok noted, to the expression on Mr. Paris's face when he challenged a newcomer at Sandrine's to a game of pool. "No."

"Why not?" He heard the impatience in his voice, mastered it.

"Because Superintendent Lerstev said so." Manager Mergy stood. "If there is nothing more, Lieutenant Commander?"

"There is something more." Tuvok fixed his gaze on the rabbit-like face of the manager. "The crew is very distressed about the lack of interest in finding our Captain and First Officer. If I cannot convince them that an appropriate level of effort is being made to find them, they may attempt to take matters into their own hands. I am only one man; I cannot deter 150 trained Starfleet officers who are armed and angry."

He would meditate later on the emotional reaction that caused him to threaten and prevaricate. For now, he was satisfied with the sudden flash of alarm in the Manager's eyes. "I – I told you yesterday, such an action would be considered armed aggression."

"And correctly so."

Mergy squared his thin shoulders. "Are you threatening me?"

"Not at all. It is my fervent hope that any violence can be avoided. I am merely suggesting a means to accomplish that end."

The Manager's thin face took on a sour expression. "I'll try to reach the Superintendent and notify him of your concerns. But I remind you, Commander. Your access agreement expires in 72 hours, and I feel certain it will not be renewed. If you remain, it will be considered a hostile action."

"Let us hope it does not come to that, Manager." Tuvok stood to emphasize his point. "_Voyager_ possesses technology that exceeds that of your station. I would regret a demonstration of that fact just to make our position clear." He made a slashing gesture and Harry Kim terminated the connection.

Tom Paris turned in his chair, his expression grim. "I know you didn't mean that, Tuvok, but there's a lot of us who feel just that way."

Tuvok returned his gaze steadily. "Why do you assume that I did not mean exactly what I said, Mr. Paris?"  
*

After several hours of work, a red light began to flash in the cargo bay. "It's the end of the work shift," Misama said as she stood and began to gather her gear. "We return to our quarters now. Your partner will meet you there. A meal will be delivered. When the signal flashes, it is the warning for sleep. You will have only five minutes to get ready for bed. "

They fell into a single file and marched into the corridor. The two guards stood, weapons in hand, and watched as the women dutifully turned to the right and kept walking. About 300 meters past the work room, they reached an area lined with doors. Women began peeling out of line, going one by one into the different doors. Kathryn realized she had no idea which door was hers.

Kathryn realized that she had no idea which door was hers. She turned to a guard. "I'm new," she began, but got no further. The guard struck her across the jaw with the butt of his weapon, sending her staggering.

"No stopping," he said. "You will be instructed on your quarters."

With an effort she quelled her anger and her need to retaliate. Rubbing her jaw, she got back into line and resumed walking. Her tongue confirmed that all teeth were still intact, and nothing seemed to be broken.

When the time was right, that guard was going to be sorry.

There were still about twenty women in line when the same guard poked her in the arm with the barrel of his weapon. "You. This is your cell. Number 87. Remember that."

She turned her head and looked at him evenly. He had a face like a pug terrier, squashed and unlovely. Then she told herself the comparison was insulting to dogs everywhere.

The cell was small, with nothing more than a bed, a small table with two chairs, and a little chest of drawers. There was a door that she assumed led to a bathroom, and that was it. Opening the drawers, she found two large nightshirts and a collection underwear for both sexes. Their captors apparently believed in clean clothes, at least.

Exploration done, she sat on the bed and realized that she was worried. Misama had said that the men would be waiting. Where was Chakotay? Why wasn't he here?

After a minute, she could no longer stand to sit. Prowling around the room, she began to look for…anything. She had no idea what she was looking for, other than anything that might be of use. The walls of the cell were the same slick, frictionless substance as every other wall she had seen that day. Running a hand over it, she looked closely at the lavender shimmer that reflected off the light.

"Vicolumbite," she said aloud. After spending hour after hour cleaning the purple stones, she felt qualified to identify it now. But why would anyone bother to develop a coating made with a fertility aid? And to put an already pregnant woman in the room?

Where was Chakotay?

She began to pace, trying to dispel the nervous energy that was building within her. It was easier before. It didn't matter so much.

Be honest, Kathryn. It always mattered, you just wouldn't admit it.

Where is he? Oh, god, where is he?

Midway through her seventh circle of the room, the door opened and Chakotay stepped in. He was streaked with dirt and sweat and looked exhausted, but she didn't care. With a sound that might have been a half-swallowed sob, she hurled herself at him. His arms closed around her, and they stood in silence, just holding each other.

Finally, when she could trust her voice again, she said, "Rough day?"

"There's an ore processing plant two levels down. I've been shoveling all day." He squeezed her gently. "What about you? Are you all right?

"Fine. They're very considerate of the hopeful mothers." She stepped back and smiled. "Don't be offended, love, but you need a shower."

To her surprise, his face darkened and his eyes suddenly flashed with anger. Then, as he placed a hand under her chin and turned her face to one side, she realized that she must be bruised where the rifle butt struck her. His voice was soft and low and without inflection, which was always a danger sign. "You call this considerate."

"No," she said lightly, "I call it a bruise. Nothing more."

"Who?"

"The pug-faced guard. I only saw two guards today, Pug-face and the tall one. Did you see any others?"

He was not to be distracted. He held her face for another five seconds, then traced a finger softly over the swollen flesh.

Kathryn caught her breath. Even though he had said nothing, she knew that he had vowed revenge.

"No others," he said, letting her go so abruptly that she was briefly confused. "Just those two."

"Go on, grab a shower. We'll talk when you're clean." She felt oddly shaky inside, and didn't know why. She sat in the room's only chair and listened while the sonic shower ran. In less than five minutes, he came back to the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. "That must feel better."

He nodded. "Yes, but I really don't want to put those clothes back on."

"In the drawers – there's some nightclothes and underwear."

As he rummaged through the drawers, the towel dropped to the floor. In spite of their circumstances, Kathryn found herself smiling as she looked at him. He turned in time to see the expression on her face. ''What?"

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "Nothing. It's just still hard to believe that anything that beautiful can be mine without guilt."

"I am not beautiful." He was grinning in spite of his words.

"Trust me, you are."

He tossed aside the shirt in his hands and advanced on her. With a sudden move, he flung himself on the bed and pulled her along with him, so that they were pressed against each other on the bed. "You're the one who's beautiful," he said softly, and kissed her deeply.

Her arms came around his neck as her body responded to his touch. He kissed her again, this time softly and persuasively.

"Oh," she sighed against his ear, "I love you." Then her command instincts reasserted themselves, and she sat up. "You are trying to distract me, and it won't work."

Lying back on the pillow, he grinned up at her. "Are you very sure of that?"

"Yes." She got up, fetched the shirt he had dropped and threw it to him. "Get dressed. We have work to do."

He pulled the nightshirt on and sat up. "Yes, ma'am."

They were interrupted when a tray of food was delivered by the tall guard a few minutes later, and they sat at the table and talked as they ate. "My orientation was simple," he told her. "They handed me a shovel and said go to it. All we do is shovel rocks and ore into carts. It’s been a long time since I did that kind of labor." He flexed a shoulder carefully. “I can’t understand why it’s all manual labor. It would be a lot more efficient with some machinery.”

"Are the men as …accepting of this situation as the women seem to be? I don’t understand it at all. None of them seem to be outraged by captivity. Either they are completely cowed or this is some cultural reaction."

"A little of both, I think. From what I can tell, the Ventraxi are raised to be both courteous and deferential to authority. It sounds like the Oligarch runs a tight ship."

She told him about the women's job of cleaning the stones. "It's called vicolumbite, and the best I can figure out is that it's some kind of fertility enhancer."

"That's right. I was able to talk a little with one of the men. Apparently there's an increasing number of Ventraxi who have trouble conceiving, and vicolumbite is said to cure infertility. He thinks we are prisoners of some kind of black market."

"What about the technology? I didn't seen anything that matches our own."

"Agreed. At best, it's about a century behind ours."

The meal consisted of some kind of meat they didn't recognize, a vegetable casserole, and a peach-like fruit. There was also a glass of milk clearly intended for Kathryn. "I told you they are considerate of us," she said, lifting the glass. "Calcium."

He ate the casserole and the fruit, but left the meat. "If we have too many days here, I might have to," he said, "but I'm not that hungry yet." Seeing the covetous gleam in her eye, he pushed the small cut of meat to her plate. "Take it."

Seizing it eagerly, she began to cut it into pieces. "Only because I'm eating for two." The she looked up. "Do you think _Voyager_ is looking for us yet?"

"We were supposed to call in hours ago. You know Tuvok. He's looking."

Later, they lay in bed in their cell in total darkness. "Lights out" was a concept their captors took very seriously; the power had gone out abruptly, leaving them in a blackness so complete that Kathryn hoped she did not have to use the head during the night. Chakotay had peeled off the nightshirt; he never wore nightclothes to bed. She lay with her head cradled in the crook of his shoulder.

"It's just two guards," she said softly. "If you can get some of the others to work with us, we can probably overpower them."

"Let me talk to the men. I don’t think the women are exactly in shape for hand-to-hand fighting."

She sighed. She’d forgotten again. The limitations imposed on her by the pregnancy were frustrating.

He heard the sigh, and seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. His hand reached to caress her face. "I wish it wasn’t so hard for you."

Tears stung her eyes, and she willed them back. Misama's simple dreams of her child suddenly rang in her ears, and she felt empty. "I think there’s something missing in me, Chakotay. Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a mother."

"I don’t think that’s the problem." His hand reached down and settled on her rounded belly. "You haven’t really had a chance to come to terms with everything that’s happened. Give yourself more time."

"But what if I never come to terms with it? What if … what if I never learn to love this baby?" She suddenly remembered Lucky’s words –_ I was never good enough for you._ At the time, she had written it off to a bit of teenage drama, but what if it were true? What if Lucky was her daughter and Kathryn never made her feel loved and cherished?

"Maybe you shouldn’t think of it as a baby. Think of it as a particularly annoying member of the crew." Even in the dark, she knew he was smiling. "You know how you feel about the crew, even Herron and Hickman."

"I’m serious."

"So am I. It’s going to be fine."

"How can you know that?"

His hand came back to her face, and he pressed a kiss against her temple. "Because I know you. Once you have her in your arms, when you can see her and touch her, she’ll be real to you."

She considered this, tried to imagine it. The picture in her mind didn’t quite come into focus, but at least she could almost see it. She sighed again. "I’m glad you’re here with me."

His arms tightened around her. "So am I. Oh, gods, Kathryn, so am I."  
*

Station Manager Mergy checked to be certain his outer office was empty before returning to his desk. He punched some numbers on his console and waited. The screen stayed dark, but a voice responded. “What is it?”

“We’ve got a problem,” Mergy said nervously. “You’ve snatched the captain and first officer from that strange ship. Their people are insisting on a full investigation.”

“I think that’s your problem, not mine,” the voice replied. “Handle it.”

“You don’t understand. The Superintendent is coming.”

“So, handle him.”

“But what about the missing officers?” Mergy pressed.

“If you do your job competently, they won’t be found.” The voice paused. “If necessary, I can take care of them. But I hate to lose a profit.”

“I don’t like it,” Mergy insisted. “It’s too dangerous. You should just get rid of them now.”

“Try to have a little courage, Mergy. I know it’s foreign to you, but do try. I’ll be in touch.” There was a click, and the connection was ended.

Mergy leaned back in his chair, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. He didn’t like this at all. Running a hand over his face, he tried to calm himself by taking one deep breath, then another. It worked; he felt his pulse start to calm down.

“Good evening,” a voice said, and Mergy’s heart rate shot back up again. Superintendent Mil Lerstev stood in his doorway.

“Superintendent! No one told me you had arrived,” Mergy said, rising quickly. “I would have greeted you.”

“No need.” Lerstev did not seem the least upset. He looked around the office, admiring the taste with which it was furnished. “Why don’t you get me up to speed?”

Nervously, Mergy explained that the captain and first officer of one of the docked ships had disappeared on the station. “The officer left in command – his name is Tuvok and he is very difficult to work with – he’s made some threats about letting his people come armed to the station to make their own search.

Lerstev sighed, and picked up a figurine of a bird cut from a deep purple crystal. "You still haven't learned the basic lessons of politics," he said mildly as he admired the workmanship of the small bird. "Always give your opponent room to maneuver. I'm certain that if we just give this Commander Tuvok a chance to save face, the situation can be salvaged."

Mergy paced nervously. "But we can't allow his security teams to have access to the station. No outworlder has ever been permitted such a thing."

"Of course we can." Lerstev returned the bird to its place and picked up an exquisite decanter, hand cut from the same crystal, and poured himself a glass of the amber liquid it held. "The trick is to manage it."

"But Superintendent –"

"Listen to me, Mergy. This ship entered our system with a letter of cachet from a Tessari Tis-Cree and an introduction from the First Minister of Lenash. I don't need to remind you of the importance of our treaty with the Lenash, do I? Or of the good will of the Tessari for our deep space trade? Good." He sipped from the glass, and looked at Mergy with surprise and appreciation. "From Seva province? Superb. Now, listen to me. I've done some research, and I believe that I can reach an understanding with Commander Tuvok. The chances for promotion on that ship are slim, I gather. This … incident is one of the few ways in which he can take command of the vessel. For the sake of his crew’s morale, he may have to make a token effort at a search, but I am confident that he can be persuaded to leave peacefully when the access agreement expires." He tossed the rest of the liquor down his throat. "And it is imperative that _Voyager_ leaves peacefully."

Mergy's face was filled with doubt, but he said, "I understand."

"I never doubted it. Now, let's get Commander Tuvok on the line."  
*

Superintendent Lerstev arrived less than 24 hours after Tuvok requested his presence; given the fact that he had to travel to the station from the Ventrax Capital, it was a rapid response. From Tuvok’s perspective, however, it felt unnecessarily delayed. Much could have been accomplished if the Superintendent had simply communicated with him on the way. The reaction of the Ventraxi officials to the incident was not logical, and suggested that there were hidden agendas in play. Until he had sufficient data, though, Tuvok could not begin to define them, or plan a course of action.

And so, despite his frustration and suspicion, Tuvok greeted the Superintendent with calm courtesy when he finally contacted _Voyager_. Lerstev called from Mergy’s office, and the station manager was visible in the background. "Lt. Commander Tuvok," Lerstev began. "On behalf of the Ventraxi Central Government, let me extend our regrets for this occurrence."

"As much as we appreciate the courtesy, Superintendent, we would place more value on a vigorous investigation. Station Manager Mergy has undoubtedly advised you of my request to permit some of _Voyager’s_ personnel to search the station. Will you grant that request?"

Lerstev’s expression was bland, unreadable. "I have taken it under advisement. I wonder, Commander, if we might speak in person. Face to face meetings are often more productive than distant communication."

In the background, a look of surprise flashed across Mergy’s face, followed by displeasure. Tuvok did not believe in hunches, but he was suddenly certain that the Superintendent wanted to talk outside of Mergy’s presence. "I concur. However, under the present circumstances I must request that you come alone, Superintendent."

The bland expression did not change, but something subtle in his eyes seemed to confirm that Tuvok had been correct in his assumption. "Acceptable. I will be at your docking port in ten minutes."

"Superintendent – " Mergy started to protest, but Lerstev cut him off with a wave.

"It is my decision, Manager. And I suspect I am safer on Voyager than her crew is on this station. End transmission."

As the screen went dark, Paris swiveled in his seat. "I don’t understand. Don’t you trust him?"

"At the moment, I do not trust anyone associated with this station. However, I sense that the Superintendent does not either.” Tuvok rose. "Mr. Ayala, I want a security detail to follow the Superintendent while he is on board, but at a distance. I do not wish to intimidate him. Mr. Paris, you and Lt. Torres, as the next ranking officers on the senior staff, will join us in the briefing room. I will meet our guest at the docking port. Mr. Kim, you have the bridge."

Tuvok arrived at the docking port only seconds before the Superintendent. Lerstev was a short but compact man with dark hair going gray at the temples and light blue eyes that pierced everything they fell upon. When he saw Tuvok, he smiled. "You are a perceptive man, Commander Tuvok. How did you guess I wanted to come alone?"

"I ‘guessed’ only that you wanted to be away from Mergy and his agents," Tuvok said. "I required that you come alone for the security of the ship."

The light blue eyes twinkled as if amused. "Of course. You should know that I am armed. I would prefer not to surrender the weapon, as I have some concerns for my personal safety."

Tuvok frowned, but studied the man, trying to take his measure. "Your safety is not in question on _Voyager_. Please surrender your weapon. It will be returned to you when you leave."

After a long silence, Lerstev shrugged and removed a phaser-like weapon from an inside pocket of his jacket. "We’re going to have to trust each other to solve both our problems. Might as well start now."

Tuvok handed the weapon to Ayala. "Please clarify that statement."

"I know what happened to your people, Commander, and why. I just don’t know who is responsible or where they are. If we work together, we have a chance of finding the answers to all those questions."  
*

In the briefing room, Tuvok introduced Paris and Torres. "The Superintendent believes he knows what happened to the Captain and the Commander."

"I believe that there is a small but efficient black market operating on this station," Lerstev told them. "It is probable that manager Mergy is part of it, or at least protecting it. That’s why I can’t trust him or his communications system. I believe that your captain and first officer were kidnapped by agents of that black market."

"But why?" Paris asked. "Do you think they learned something they shouldn’t have?"

"No. I believe they were chosen for other reasons." He reached into his inner pocket again, this time withdrawing a small case. Setting it on the table, he removed a purple gemstone, about the size of a hen’s egg. "This is vicolumbite. At the moment, it is considered one of the most valuable commodities in the entire Ventraxi Oligarchy. It is found on only a few barren asteroids and is extremely difficult to mine."

B’Elanna picked it up and examined it. "It’s beautiful. It seems to have an inner fire." She looked up suddenly. "Is this an energy source?"

Lerstev nodded. "I see why you are the ship’s Engineer. Our scientists have been trying to harness the powers of vicolumbite for decades. Among the general populace, however, the stone has another value. It is believed to be an aid to fertility."

"Get it off this ship," Paris said quickly, snatching it from B'Elanna and tossing it back to Lerstev.

The Superintendent raised his eyebrows, and glanced at B’Elanna in her maternity uniform. "I understand that such aids are not necessary for you, but among my people…" He suddenly looked uncomfortable and turned to Tuvok. "This is not an easy topic for us to discuss, but I have to tell you about it so you will understand."

Tuvok nodded. "Rest assured, what you tell us will not leave this room."

"Thank you, but it’s not a secret. It’s open knowledge but it is so painful for us that we don’t talk about it readily." He took a little breath. "Among the Ventraxi, conception can be achieved only when the male and female fertility cycles are synchronized. Over the past fifty years, that synchronization has decreased at an alarming rate, and our physicians and scientists do not know why. Artificial means of conception have been explored, but the success rate is less than 2%.

"Even as the conception rate has decreased, the biological imperatives for our women to bear a child have remained unchanged. If a woman does not conceive and bear a child before roughly the age of thirty, she will enter a phase we call Premature Transition. In this phase, she loses all ability to conceive. The instinct to raise a family is strong among us, and Premature Transition often causes mental and emotional instability, sometimes permanently."

"The guard mentioned that condition as a cause for the attack on our child," Tuvok said.

Lerstev nodded. "It’s likely. You need to understand the terrible stresses this has placed on our society. By tradition and inclination, we are a monogamous people, but the failure to conceive is fracturing even the happiest marriages. If a woman cannot synchronize with her partner, she will be driven to seek another."

"So a fertility aid becomes a best seller." Paris shook his head. "Tell me, does it work, or are these people selling false hope?"

The Superintendent shrugged. "Our physicians and scientists say it doesn’t. But there are hundreds of new parents who claim it does."

"All right," B’Elanna said. "I understand why a black market might spring up to sell this stuff. But what does that have to do with Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay?"

"There are two possibilities. According to tradition, vicolumbite retains its effectiveness as a fertility aid only if it is handled only by hopeful mothers and their partners after it is mined. "

Tuvok’s eyebrows shot up. "You think they were kidnapped because the Captain is pregnant?"

"I'm certain of it. Over the past two years, more than forty hopeful mothers and their partners have disappeared in this sector, more than half of them on this station. I am less certain that they have been taken for the purpose of processing vicolumbite."

"What do you mean?" B’Elanna asked with sudden foreboding.

He looked at B’Elanna evenly. "Although my superiors do not agree, I believe that there is also a black market for babies on this station."

A heavy silence fell around the table. Finally, B’Elanna said in a taut voice, "Someone wants to sell the Captain’s baby?"

"Legal adoption is difficult. The few infants that are available for adoption are handled by government agencies, which screen prospective parents closely. The waiting lists are long."

Tuvok’s frown was deep. "Why is adoption an attractive alternative, if it is the act of conception is physiologically vital?"

"There is valid scientific evidence which proves that once a child is in the house, fertility cycles tend to synchronize. No one can find a reason for it, but there’s extensive empirical data to support this hypothesis." Lerstev looked depressed. "There is another reason that I suspect that the black market is not aimed solely at vicolumbite as a fertility aid, but this is something that I do ask you keep in confidence."

Tuvok nodded. "Please, go on."

"I mentioned that our scientists have been trying to find a way to use vicolumbite for decades. A few years ago, they succeeded. In specific shapes and specifications, vicolumbite projects a dampening field that interferes with virtually all technology beyond simple machines. The most effective use discovered so far is as a shield or mask from scanning technology. The value of that on the black market is far greater than fertility aids."

"A cloaking device?" Paris asked. "Vicolumbite can be used as a cloaking device?"

The Superintendent nodded. "An apt phrase."

"And one which explains a mystery." Tuvok hit his commbadge. "Ensign Kim, Seven of Nine, report to the Briefing Room."  
*

A klaxon, only slightly less loud than the red alert signal on the ship, woke them in the morning. Given the short amount of time between the warning and total darkness the night before, they dressed quickly. No sooner had Kathryn finished fastening her top than the door to their cell opened. Maygar came in, still carrying his baton. They moved together, standing shoulder to shoulder.

His gaze was cold as he looked at them. "You are not Ventraxi."

"We never claimed to be," Chakotay said.

He walked toward them, his eyes narrowed. He pointed the baton at her. "Are you pregnant?"

She felt Chakotay go tense beside her. "Yes."

"Then you are still useful to me."

Suddenly Kathryn felt cold.

Maygar turned his focus to Chakotay. "You worked well yesterday. If you work well today, you will see your wife again. If you don’t, I will send you to the mines. Do you understand?"

Chakotay nodded, and spoke softly. "I understand." Kathryn knew him well enough to hear the threat in his voice, and was thankful that Maygar did not.

"The same is true for you," he said to Kathryn. "Work well and be obedient and you will see him tonight. Otherwise, he will be sent to the mines."

She nodded, and he turned and left. The coldness remained in her blood. "He doesn’t want us at all," she said. "He wants the baby."

He said nothing at first, but then he said thoughtfully, "I’ll talk to the other men. If I can get even a few to go along with me, we can overpower the guards. You need to be ready for anything, Captain. I don’t know exactly how it will go down."

The use of her rank steadied her more than anything else would have. "Agreed." She shook off the last of the chill, and felt the calmness that always came whenever she had a course of action. "Good luck, Commander."

The doors opened again, and they stepped outside to join the lines of prisoners being herded to their work.  
*

"Mr. Kim, please show us the external view of the station."

From the right side of the monitor in the briefing room, Harry accessed a few controls and a immediately an image of the Ventraxi Station appeared. It was a long vertical cylinder that served as a stem to a series of six rings spaced at even distances, each with greater depth and circumference. The fourth, fifth and sixth rings were the docking rings, studded with ships. Voyager was clearly visible on the fourth ring. Beneath the sixth ring was a large, squared off base. The stem extended beneath for one more ring and a tapering tail that ended in a deflector dish. "This is how the station appears from a distance of one thousand kilometers."

"Thank you. Now would you please show us the results of your scan of the station."

Lerstev’s head jerked up. "You scanned the station?"

Tuvok almost smiled. "It seemed prudent."

Harry hit another control, and the monitor changed. It now showed a schematic of the station, but it was immediately evident that everything beneath the squared based was missing. The station appeared to end without a final ring, tail or deflector. "As you can see, the scanners are unable to read the bottom portion of the station."

"Vicolumbite," B'Elanna said with certainty.

Seven of Nine, seated across the table from her, frowned. "I do not understand."

"It's a mineral – a gemstone – that can be used to create a cloaking device." Torres looked to Lerstev. "Would you show her? She might recognize it."

The Superintendent removed the small case from his pocket and again withdrew the gleaming crystal. Seven held it up to examine it, then blinked. She caught her breath and swayed slightly.

"Seven?" Paris, sitting closest to her, steadied her with one hand on her shoulder.

"I am unwell. Suddenly I am…" her eyes began to flutter.

B'Elanna reached across the table and snatched the crystal out of her hand. "It's the vicolumbite. It's interfering with her implants." She handed the stone back to Lerstev, who put it back in its protective casing.

Tuvok looked at Seven. "Are you all right?"

She spoke slowly, but clearly. "I am improving. When I held the stone I became disoriented."

"It really does have an effect on technology," B'Elanna said.

"Are you sufficiently recovered to make your report?" Tuvok asked.

"I believe so." Although pale, she stood and went to the monitor. "I was able to …obtain…a small portion of the station security records before they were destroyed."

Lerstev turned to Tuvok, looking as if he wanted to ask a question. Then he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"I believe I have found something useful,” Seven continued. "This is from the security camera located above the turbolift at Level 6. Computer, commence record at time index 156.2."

The screen illuminated with an image of the main corridor on Level 6, as seen from an angle substantially higher than usual. As they watched, a small group of people entered the picture from the bottom of the screen, walking away with their backs to the camera. "This group has just exited the turbolift," Seven said. "Please note the couple on the far left."

She was referring to a man and a woman who were walking hand in hand. Tuvok nodded, noting the coloring, build and walk of the two. "That is Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay."

"Agreed." Seven waited two more seconds, then said, "Computer, freeze picture."

At that moment, the two had stopped, apparently to talk. They turned to each other, and any doubt about their identity was erased as their profiles were clearly visible. Tuvok nodded. "Good work, Seven. This is the first proof we have that they were still on the station at this time."

"There is more. Look at the Captain’s hand."

"She’s holding something," Superintendent Lerstev said, "but what is it?"

With two quick moves, Seven isolated the object and magnified it. Tuvok stared. "It appears to be a stuffed toy. Humans call it a ‘teddy bear’."

"We Ventraxi call it a Lucky Charm," Lerstev told him. "It’s a common gift to hopeful mothers."

"According to Neelix, there are only three kiosks on the station that sell such objects," Seven said. "We may be able to determine the origin of the one the Captain holds. That should help us trace their steps."

"It may accomplish more than that," Tuvok said. "It occurs to me that a store that sells objects intended for pregnant women may be more than simply a store."

Lerstev nodded in agreement. "It may also be a referral agency."

"Exactly."

*

Manager Mergy was about to finish his third glass of Seva brandy when his comm system chimed. "Incoming call from Superintendent Lerstev."

"Superintendent! I was becoming concerned."

"No need." Lerstev appeared to be alone, although still on the alien starship. "I was quite right about Commander Tuvok. We have agreed that he will send two teams of his security personnel, with two officers each, to search the station. If they find anything suspicious, they will report directly to Station Security. If they find nothing, they will leave when the access agreement expires."

Mergy almost collapsed in relief. "Thank you, Superintendent."

"Don’t thank me. You have a direct part to play. I promised Commander Tuvok that an extra five thousand credits vouchers would be delivered to him within the hour. You do have the budget for that, don't you, Mergy?"

The Station Manager gulped. "Uh, I, ah…yes, yes of course."

"I had no doubt. I'm going to remain on board a while longer. It seems Commander Tuvok and I share a common interest in orchids. I can use the time to reinforce the logic of our arrangement. Just make sure the credits are delivered on time."

"Yes, of course, Superintendent."

As the screen darkened, Mergy poured another generous portion of brandy and swallowed almost all of it in a single gulp. Then he entered a code into the computer, although his fingers trembled so badly that he muffed it twice and had to begin again.

"What is it?" was the only greeting.

"Trouble. Lerstev's allowing two search teams from that alien ship. He says that it will just be a token search, that he's bought off Tuvok, but I'm not so certain. He didn't seem like the buyable type."

The dark screen suddenly came to life with the image of Maygar stared at him flatly. "What does Lerstev know?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. It's just that – those aliens are trouble, I just know it. Perhaps…" He swallowed nervously. "Perhaps we should shut things down until they leave."

"Not yet." Maygar's mouth thinned. "You're a mouse, Mergy, frightened of your own shadow. I've got two mothers about to deliver and only one adoption set. There's another ship full of tourists from Ventrax Proxima due in later today, and we're bound to get a customer or two. Get word to the others to keep going, but be careful. I'll take care of things here. We will go to lockdown for the rest of today. They won't find any unusual activity for the next twelve hours. By then, they will be less diligent in their search."

"I don't know. These aliens aren't like us. They seem very determined. And very resourceful."

Maygar smiled. "So am I, Mergy. Keep that in mind."  
*

Kathryn's shoulder ached. The job of cleaning vicolumbite was repetitive, tedious and mind-numbing. If she hadn't been so on edge, waiting for some sign that Chakotay was beginning an uprising, she might have gone crazy.

Misama noticed her tension. "Are you all right?" she asked quietly when the guard wasn't in the room.

"Fine."

"You look upset. Is anything amiss with the baby?"

"The baby is fine. The baby is perfect. The baby is in control of my entire life and it's thrilled to death." Kathryn heard her words and looked up, appalled. "I'm sorry. I…" she didn't know what to say.

"You are not happy to be expecting?"

"It's not that," Kathryn said defensively. "It's just that…it's not like I thought it would be. I certainly never expected to be a slave in a vicolumbite factory."

"Oh, but don't you see?" Misama's expression was eager. "Once we deliver, we are of no further use to them. They have to let us go."

_Or kill us_. The thought came unbidden and refused to leave. "I hope so."

The lights began to blink, and the klaxon sounded in a rhythmic tattoo. "What is that? Kathryn asked.

"Lockdown," Misama said, her eyes big with fear. "Leave everything where it is and get in line. They'll take us back to our quarters. It will be dark until the all clear is sounded."

Chakotay. Kathryn followed the example of the others. The tall guard was standing by the door, signaling them to get in line. Her heart began to race; was this it? Did she need to find a way to break away from the others?

Her question was answered as she entered the corridor. The pug-faced guard was herding the men back to quarters as well. She spotted Chakotay in the in the line almost immediately. Part of her heart rose, and part sank.

He was safe.

This was not their chance to escape.

They stumbled into their cell at almost the same instant. The doors slid shut behind them. "What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know. I've got a few of the men ready to act, but before we could do anything, the alarm went off." The look of frustration on his face was the last thing she saw before the room went dark.

She reached for him through the blackness, found the solid warmth of his chest. "This must be something external. Something that's worrying them."

His arms folded around her and pulled her close. "We're going to get out of this, I promise you. If not today, then tomorrow. It will work."

"I know."

They stood in the dark, holding on to one another.

*

Harry Kim and Jenny Delaney wandered through the station in clothing that marked them as fashion-conscious, financially secure, Ventraxi, purchased with some of the additional credits transferred by Mergy to Voyager's account. Superintendent Lerstev had suggested it; he found a certain poetic justice in having Mergy finance the investigation that was designed to expose him.

Tuvok would have preferred sending members of the Security department, but he knew the limitations of his personnel. None of them would be effective in an undercover role. Jenny Delaney had proven herself to be the finest actress on the ship on many Talent Nights, and she was eager to participate in the search for the Captain. She was also, Tuvok noted, a woman of great resourcefulness and he was confident in her abilities to deal with any unexpected developments on the station. Harry Kim was quite capable and by now among the more experienced of Voyager’s younger officers. According to the Superintendent, they fit the profile of a wealthy, childless Ventraxi couple almost perfectly.

They stood outside a shop called "Endless Hope" on Level 3. Rina, the teddy bear vendor, had sent them there when they confided that they were having trouble with conception. Lerstev had provided them with enough identification and background to appear to be recent arrivals from Ventraxi Media, a world known for its wealthy population. Rina had appeared to accept their credentials, but they took their time in walking from the Gallery to Level 3; they wanted Rina's accomplice to have time to confirm their false identities.

"Endless Hope" was hard to spot; it was a real shop, not a kiosk, but its only distinguishing mark was a tasteful sign above the door. Unlike most of the other shops, it did not have display windows or any kind of opening to peek in. The only way to know what was sold there was to walk in and look.

Harry and Jenny looked at one another. "Show time," Jenny said, touching Harry's arm lightly. "Go get 'em, tiger."

He nodded seriously, then went in alone. The light inside was several degrees dimmer than the corridor, and it took moment for Harry’s eyes to focus. When he could see clearly, he realized that this shop sold nothing but vicolumbite, in every form and shape imaginable.

The shop was small and seemed even smaller because of the cluttered display. A slender woman dressed in black with black hair pulled back severely from her face stood behind a counter and watched him as he wandered up a narrow aisle, pausing at a large bin on the floor that was filled to the brim with loose stones, most the size of his thumb. He picked one up and held it to the light; the stone seemed to come alive with a purple fire. There was no need to try to use his tricorder; this was unquestionably genuine vicolumbite.

Conscious of the woman's scrutiny, he returned the stone to the bin with great deliberation. Continuing down the aisle, he was amazed by the variety of items filling the shelves that featured some degreed of vicolumbite – small vials with tiny flakes floating in a clear liquid; geodes that ranged in size from an egg to a fist; metal cups and saucers studded with chips.

He had never imagined that so much junk could be considered salable.

The next aisle had a clear display case that ran the length of the store. As he studied its contents, he realized that this was the truly valuable merchandise. There were goblet and pitchers touted as hand-cut vicolumbite; statues and figurines almost a meter in height, beautifully carved and mounted; and jewelry, lots of jewelry: necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, ankle bracelets, and some pieces whose purpose Harry could not guess.

A necklace displayed on a velvet pedestal caught his eye. Oval-cut stones of graduated size draped in three ropes and shimmered under the special lighting of the case. The rainbows of light that danced out of each stone were mesmerizing, and Harry reached out a hand to touch the protective glass in front of it.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" a voice behind him purred. It was the woman from the counter; Harry had been so genuinely entranced by the necklace that he hadn’t seen her approach.

"Exquisite." He licked his lips nervously. "Is it…I mean, was it…?"

"Pure?" The proprietor was unfazed by his seeming reluctance to finish the sentence. "Absolutely. All my merchandise is guaranteed to be untainted. These stones were mined with the greatest care. Once they are out of the ground, they are handled only by hopeful mothers and fathers from sorting to cleaning to cutting." She smiled contentedly.

He nodded, but continued looking at the necklace. "Something like that – it would be very potent, wouldn’t it? I mean, the concentration of the stones…"

"You’ve done your research, I see. Yes, in a concentration like this the cumulative effect of the stones would be more than the sum of the parts. A synergy develops in the vibrative waves emanating from vicolumbite which increases the effects exponentially."

It took a great deal of concentration for Harry to nod as if he agreed with every word. Inwardly, he was screaming with outrage that such nonsense could be passed off as proven fact. "I – I almost forgot. Rina – up in the Gallery - said I should ask for Tyja. She said Tyja would help us."

The proprietor’s eyebrows shot up. "I'm Tyja. You must be Harrok. Rina told me to expect you. But I thought your wife was with you."

"She is. But she gets emotional about – things. Look, I need something like this. Price is no object."

"Ah." The woman nodded sympathetically even as she keyed open the case. "Your wife will surely be pleased with such a gift."

"What gift?"

The unexpected voice caused them both to jump. Jenny Delaney stood behind them both, wearing a gold and brown dress in the Ventraxi style. Her arms were folded across her chest and a frown fixed on her face. "I knew I’d find you in here. What gift?"

"This necklace, sweet." Harry nudged the proprietor, who dutifully lifted the magnificent piece up so Jenny could see it better.

She barely looked at it. "Vicolumbite. We have vicolumbite in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in every room. You wear it, I wear it. It isn’t working for us. I don’t need any more vicolumbite." Then she covered her face with her hands and started to sob.

Harry immediately put his arms around her and made soothing noises. "I know, sweet, I know. But this time it will be different. This time I’m sure it will work."

"Really?" Jenny asked in a little-girl voice. "Are you really sure? Don’t make me hope again if you aren’t sure, because I don’t think I can stand it if it doesn’t work again. I don’t know what I’ll do."

"I know," Harry said again. He looked up to see Tyja studying them closely. "I’m sorry. It’s just that we’ve been disappointed so many times."

"I understand." She replaced the necklace in the case and locked it again. "Why don’t we go to my private office? You can pull yourself together, and I might have something that might interest you more than this necklace."

They followed her through a cleverly camouflaged door into a small room. Compared with the main store, it was brightly lit and uncluttered. Tyja indicated that they should sit in two chairs located near a desk. "I gather," she said as she sat behind the desk, "that you have tried vicolumbite but it hasn’t worked for you?"

Jenny nodded, reaching across the chairs to clutch Harry’s hand. "We’ve done everything we were told, even our dinnerware is carved vicolumbite, but –" her chin quivered slightly – "nothing has worked for us."

Tyja shook her head. "It is a regrettable truth that vicolumbite will not be effective for a small percentage of couples. From what you describe, I'm afraid that the two of you may be among them."

Jenny’s eyes filled with tears. "Then there is no hope."

"For a child of your body, I fear that is so. But…" she hesitated, then asked with great delicacy, "Have you considered adoption?"

"Of course," Harry said. "But there are so few babies available, and the list is so long…it would be years before we got a child."

"Perhaps not." She folded her hands together and leaned forward. "This may be an extremely fortuitous meeting for both of us. I have a friend – one of the artists whose work you were admiring - who finds herself in tragic circumstances. She's expecting a child, but her partner is dying and she lacks the means to support a baby and see to his medical needs as well. If she doesn’t find a worthy couple soon, she will be forced to turn the baby over to the government adoption agency, but she would prefer not to do that. She would much rather make a direct placement with couple that she knows can care for her child properly.”

Jenny leaned forward. "Oh. Oh, we would be such good parents. We would give her child so much love."

"That is obvious," Tyja agreed. "And a good, loving family is the basis for character. But she also wants to be certain that the baby would not place a financial strain on the prospective parents. After all, if love alone were sufficient to raise a child, she would not be forced to this action."

"But we’re rich!" Jenny said artlessly.

Harry laughed nervously. "I wouldn’t say that, but we certainly can support a child in comfort." He caught the proprietor’s eye. "I suspect that your friend would like a demonstration of our financial position."

"That would be most helpful."

Harry nodded slowly. "I see. Well, I can authorize a reference check at my banking institutions but that will take several days and require a great deal of paperwork. I’m guessing that your friend would prefer that we not delay."

"You are very perceptive. She is close to her delivery date, and must make a decision quickly."

"Perhaps a gift then. Something to help defray some of her expenses."

She smiled. "An excellent idea. She is overwhelmed with the expenses for her partner’s care. A gift of oh, say, thirty thousand credits, would help tremendously and demonstrate your financial security."

Jenny’s eyes widened. "Thirty thousand credits?"

"That's only a suggestion," Tyja said quickly. "I offer it only because a couple that could afford such a gift on short notice clearly has the ability to withstand the financial demands of raising a child."

Jenny turned to Harry, clutching his hand. "A baby. Think of it, our own baby. And then, maybe another, really our own. It's everything I've hoped for."

"Yes, our baby." He turned back to the proprietor. "I have to make arrangements to free up that much in liquid assets. We can return in a few hours."

The woman inclined her head. "That is acceptable. I will speak to my friend in the interim. If all goes well, you may well have a child before you leave this station; she is very close to term." She rose, and Harry and Jenny did as well. She put an arm around Jenny’s shoulder. "I have such a good feeling about this, my dear. I just know it’s all going to work out for everyone."

"This is a wonderful thing you’re doing," Jenny said as they walked back into the shop.

Tyja smiled modestly. "Oh, I’m only pleased that I can be of assistance. There is so little hope in the world these days, I just like to bring some to people whenever I can."

"We’ll be back soon," Harry said, and they left the shop.

As soon as they were in the corridor, Jenny said in a low voice, "My god, Harry. Can you believe it? I feel so dirty."

"Yeah, it’s pretty disgusting. Let’s get back and tell the superintendent what happened. He’s going to have to come up with thirty thousand credits." He smiled at her. "By the way, you were terrific. You should have been an actress."

Jenny's smile was tinged with regret. "It wasn’t that hard, Harry. The sad thing is, it wasn’t that hard."  
*

Kathryn wasn’t certain how long the lockdown lasted; when it didn’t end after a few minutes, she and Chakotay found the bed in the darkness and lay down. Eventually she had fallen asleep, and woke only when the lights returned. Judging by the hunger that gnawed at her, they had missed at least one meal.

Chakotay rose, helped her stand. There were dark circles under his eyes, and she wondered if he had slept at all. "Security’s likely to be tight for a while. We may have to be patient."

She nodded, but she was worried about him. Until now, he had been completely composed and she had drawn strength from that. But he seemed more tense than before, and less certain. "Hey," she said, trying to smile. "You’ve broken out of jail before, haven’t you?"

"More than once," he admitted. "But I never had to get my wife and child out, too."

Something clicked in her mind. _And that’s the problem, isn’t it? We’ve been thinking like a couple, not like officers_. She took both his hands. "Chakotay, if you have a chance to escape without me, take it."

"Kathryn - "

"That’s an order, Commander."

His face was stony and his eyes hard. "Don’t pull rank on me, Kathryn. I’m not leaving you here."

"I’m not ‘pulling’ anything. The fact is, in my present condition I am a liability. I am neither agile nor capable of much self-defense, and my stamina is lousy. You probably have a better chance to get away alone, and you can come back for me once you get to _Voyager_. They aren’t going to hurt me as long as I’m pregnant." She met his eyes, held his gaze. "Understood?"

He said nothing.

She sighed. "Chakotay, this is exactly what we talked about when we got married. We knew there would be times like this, when our duty to the ship and our duty to each other don’t fit together. We agreed – the ship has to come first."

"I know." He gripped her hands. "But if anything happens to you, I don’t think I can live with it."

"Of course you can." She tried to reassure him with a smile. "The same way I could if I lost you - with a lot of grief and pain but no regrets. We do what we have to do for the ship and our people. There can’t be any guilt in that."

He took her face in his hands and studied it intently. "Aye, Captain," he said softly, and then kissed her.

The door to the cell opened, and they stepped out to join the lines of workers.

There were still only two guards watching them all, and it was still Pug-face and the tall one. When the reached the split where the men went one direction and the women another, Pug-face went with the women. Kathryn watched Chakotay for as long as she could, fighting the feeling that she would not see him again.

The women settled quickly into their routine. When Pug-face was satisfied that everyone was hard at work, he left the room. Kathryn spoke softly to Misama without lifting her head from the task of cleaning the stones. "What happened? Why was there a lockdown?"

"I don’t know. It happens once in a while." The other woman’s gaze flicked up. "Your partner spoke to Bry. Do you really think they want to take our babies?"

"Yes, I do."

Misama’s mouth began to tremble. "I won’t let them."

The door opened suddenly and Pug-face returned. He had a woman with him. "Misama. Here’s another new one. Show her what to do."

Kathryn was careful not to raise her eyes while the guard was there. She knew he was watching her particularly. Misama pushed away from the table and took the new prisoner over to the equipment cabinet, just as she had for Kathryn. Then they came back and sat at the table.

"What do we do now?" the new prisoner asked, and Kathryn’s eyes flew upward.

The new prisoner was B’Elanna Torres. She out of uniform, wearing a close-fitting dress that emphasized her pregnancy. Even though she was no further along than Kathryn, she looked much closer to delivery because of the twins. She met Kathryn's gaze evenly, her face betraying no recognition. 

"We clean stones," Kathryn said, keeping her voice low and emotionless.

Pug-face watched from the doorway for a while. Then he came over to them and circled their table, saying nothing but looking closely at both Kathryn and B’Elanna. Finally, with a look of disappointment, he left the room.

Kathryn set down her tools at once. "How did you get here?"

"The same way you did – from the teddy bear kiosk to the Red Door Tavern to here." She leaned forward, lowered her voice. "We’re still on the station, Captain. This ring is the original station – they built the rest above it about fifty years ago. It’s supposed to be only storage now, but Mergy and his friends found another use for it. We’re working with a Ventraxi official to get you out."

"Is Tom here, too?"

B’Elanna nodded. "He’s going to try to make contact with Chakotay."

*

The cargo bay was filled with mounds of stone and ore dumped in a large cargo bay that needed to be loaded into carts. Even though there was no guard present, surveillance cameras were prominently mounted in several locations. Older prisoners had told Chakotay that they were watched at all times.

He was careful, then, to keep shoveling as he worked his way from mound to mound, talking to his fellow prisoners. Some of them were nervous after the lockdown and wavering in their resolve to help his plan. He had to remind himself that these were not Starfleet officers; they were civilians who had never been trained to fight. For that matter, they had led fairly sheltered lives and never been forced to fight before. Their capture had stunned them, and for the most part they reacted with obedience because they knew no other way to protect their wives.

He was working his way around the third mound when he saw Tom Paris. Dressed in civilian clothes, he was accompanied by the tall guard that watched over the men. The guard handed him a shovel and pointed to a mound. Tom looked at the implement in his hands for a moment, then shrugged and dug in.

As soon as the guard left, Chakotay began working his way toward Tom. Paris saw him coming and started to straighten, but Chakotay looked up to one of the security cameras, and Tom nodded in understanding. He kept working in the same place until Chakotay was near.

"Fancy seeing you here," Paris said in a low voice. "Nice choice for a honeymoon."

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you." Quickly, Paris briefed him on the situation. "So, got any plans for escape?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. We think there are only two guards."

"I get it. Create a diversion to get them in here, and then we take them."

"Exactly."

Paris almost sighed. "You’re going to hit me, aren’t you?"

"Can you think of a better diversion?"

"I could hit you."

"You could try."

With a wide grin, Paris tossed aside his shovel and said loudly, "Say that again."

Chakotay did the same. "I said you could try."

With a shout, Paris lowered his head and ran at him. Tackling him around the middle he took Chakotay to the floor. "What are you doing?" Chakotay demanded as soon as he had enough air to speak.

"Wrestling," Paris said though gritted teeth. "I’m not going to box a boxer."

As the two struggled on the floor, others began to gather around. Chakotay managed to flip Paris off his back and onto the floor, and as he did so, he saw that Bry and some of the others he had recruited were on the edge of the crowd. "This is it," he shouted to them. "Get ready."

He saw Bry’s face turn determined just before Paris broke his hold and slid away.

The two guards came running in, and forced their way through the crowd. When they reached the circle where Paris and Chakotay were fighting, they stopped short. The fighters seemed oblivious to them. For a moment they seemed surprised that their appearance alone was not enough to cow them into order.

The tall guard recovered first, and aimed his weapon at Paris.

Chakotay said, "Now," and pushed Paris into the guard with all his strength, then rolled to one side. The force knocked the pilot and the guard to the ground, and Bry reached down and grabbed the weapon.

Chakotay snatched up a shovel as he rolled and swung viciously at Pug-face’s knees. The man howled in pain and dropped to the floor, but he was still clutching his weapon. With a snarl, Chakotay rose to his knees and swung the shovel again, this time hitting the guard along the side of his face. Chakotay watched with grim satisfaction as Pug-face’s eyes crossed and he fell to the deck, unconscious.

He picked up Pug-face’s weapon and stood. "Come on. We need to move quickly."

Bry looked at him blankly, pointing the weapon haphazardly. "What do we do now?"

Paris took the weapon from him. "We get the women and we get the hell out."

They led the prisoners out into the corridor and got about 10 meters when the lights began to flash and the klaxon sounded. "Damn!" Chakotay said.

"What’s happening?" Paris asked.

"Lockdown. There must be someone else in security."

"Time for Plan B."

Chakotay looked at him blankly.  
*

"What’s happening?" B’Elanna asked.

"Lockdown." Kathryn stood. "Come on, we have to get to the corridor or we’ll be stuck in here."

Misama was shaking visibly. "I – I can’t."

There was no time to argue; abandoning her, with her. Kathryn and B’Elanna ran to the corridor. "Now what?" B’Elanna asked.

"It’s going to get very dark very quickly. Cell doors will lock, and who knows what else. I don’t know for certain, but I’m betting the turbolifts will go offline."

B’Elanna grabbed her by the hand and began to pull her down a side corridor. "We have to get to deflector control. If we can deactivate the vicolumbite shield, _Voyager_ can find us."

She hesitated for a moment as she looked at panels on the wall. "I know there’s an access hatch here," she muttered, "it was on the schematics..." With a grimace, she grabbed two unmarked handles and pulled with all her strength. A panel peeled away from the bulkhead, revealing access to a vertical ladder. "Just keep going down," she said.

The corridor went dark just as Kathryn climbed onto the ladder. Fortunately, intermittent emergency lights were spaced up and down the narrow space holding the ladder, so at least they could see the rungs. She began to climb downward, carefully.  
*

"Plan B," Paris said. "We deactivate the deflector."

Chakotay clearly had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. "Where? How? We’re going to lose power fast."

"Through an access panel. Lerstev showed us the schematics…" Paris was searching along the bulkhead as he spoke. As the lights suddenly went out, he said, "Yes, I’ve got it." Then, after a few grunts, "Damn, it won’t open."

"I had it sealed," a voice said coolly. Chakotay wheeled, and was instantly blinded when a bright light hit him directly in the eyes. In a few seconds, his sight adjusted and he found that Maygar was standing behind him with a wrist light, pointing a phaser at him. "There were far too many of them."

Chakotay tensed. "It’s over, Maygar."

"Not quite." The man seemed unruffled. "I ought to just kill you. No well bred Ventraxi would dream of resisting authority without an instigator like you. It was quite an accomplishment."

"Not really. Not when they realized that you don’t just sell vicolumbite – you sell babies."

"Hope," Maygar corrected. "I sell hope to the hopeless, chances to the desperate. Thanks to me, a large number of marriages survive, and countless women avoid suicide and possible madness. It’s a service to my fellow Ventraxi, really."

"Except for those you murder."

He shrugged. "Cost of doing business. It’s for the best, in the long run. I’m not going to shoot you, Chakotay, and here’s why: I want the others to see you surrender, so they learn what happens to instigators."

Chakotay smiled grimly. "Don’t count on it."

"We’ll see. If I don’t hit the proper control in the security office within the next 5 minutes, there will be an explosive decompression in the power core of this ring."

"That would destroy the entire station."

"And wouldn’t that be a pity? All those people, all those ships – including your own. I don’t believe you want that on your conscience – for the next five minutes, of course. After that, it won’t be an issue for you."

"Or for you."

Maygar smiled. "Oh, I think not. Because if you don’t call this off in the next ten seconds, I’m leaving. What will it be, Chakotay?

He stared at him for five seconds. The ploy could be a bluff; it seemed unlikely that Maygar would take this much risk with his own life. But he couldn’t take the chance. If he was wrong, thousands of people, including the crew of _Voyager_, would die.

Kathryn and the baby would die.

Where there was life, there was hope.

He opened his mouth to speak but from behind him, Paris spoke first. "Now!" he shouted.

From the darkness behind Maygar, a body leaped on him, knocking them both to the floor. Bry was on top of him, pummeling his back with enthusiasm if not effectiveness. Chakotay reached down and took the phaser from Maygar’s hand, then gave it to Paris.

"That’s enough," he said to Bry, and with a continuous motion yanked Maygar to his feet with his right hand. Paris stepped in and grabbed the hand, stripping the light off it and holding it so that Chakotay had a clear view. "You aren’t going anywhere, Maygar. If that wasn’t a bluff, you better take me to your security office.”

*

"This was a lot easier six months ago," B’Elanna huffed as she climbed down the ladder. She barely fit in the narrow space. 

"Just be careful."

"Here’s the platform." B’Elanna set foot on a deck of metal mesh and stepped back to make room for Kathryn. In the dimly green emergency lighting, they could see that the stem had opened into a circular room about 12 meters in diameter and about 5 meters high. "The deflector control is on one of these consoles. It should be marked with a yellow and red symbol that looks like the letter A, upside down."

"How do you know that?" Kathryn asked even as she began checking each console.

"Superintendent Lerstev provided us with schematics. Once we realized the old section was shielded by vicolumbite, we guessed you were here."

"But how – never mind. Fill me in later. It’s not any of these."

"Or these." B’Elanna frowned, and turned slowly around the room, looking upwards. "Oh, no."

"What?"

"Look up there." Kathryn did, and saw that there was an upper platform with more equipment. The problem was that there was no access to the platform. The stairs to it had been removed, and the piece that would have connected it to the ladder was missing.

She twirled slowly, studying the room. She spotted a vertical series of handles leading upwards about a meter and a half to the right of the platform. "Look," she said. "I think we can climb up those and step over."

B'Elanna squinted in the dim light. "That's not a step, it’s a leap of faith."

"Do you have a better idea?" Kathryn didn’t wait for an answer; she knew that there would be none. She went up the rungs first, but stopped when she heard B'Elanna laugh suddenly. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry, Captain. I just flashed this image from Tom's old moving pictures – swash-buckles, he calls them. This sort of thing is always done by men wearing tights. Can you picture what we would look like in one?"

In spite of everything, Kathryn chuckled. "Better like this than in tights."

When she was about even with the platform, she saw there was another handle in the wall about halfway between the two positions. From its location, it was intended to be a hand-hold to help a person step over.

Only hours ago she had told Chakotay she lacked the agility to help in their escape; now she had no choice but to hope that she was wrong. Well, Lucky, she said silently to her baby, we’re going to test your nickname. She reached out and grabbed the handle with her left hand. Three quick breaths and she swung herself over.

The platform groaned as she found her balance, then jerked. B'Elanna said in alarm, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, but don't try to come over here. It feels unstable. I'm not certain it can support both of us."  
*

Paris held Maygar securely as they made their way to the security office. "How much time?"

"Less than a minute. You have to let me go."

"Guess again."

Chakotay looked at the different consoles in the office. "Which one, and what’s the code?"

Maygar grimaced with frustration. "That one. And I need to enter the code. The computer won’t accept anyone’s DNA but mine."

Leveling the phaser at Maygar’s head, he said to Paris, "Let him go."

Freed, Maygar fell on the console and rapidly punched in orders. Then he stepped back, and the lights came back on. "All right. There will be no explosion."

"Good. Now – "

"But," he continued, "I’ve disabled life support. It will take you at least three hours to cut your way back to the main station, and there’s only an hour of air left. Let me go, and I’ll tell you where the only access shaft is."

"Oh, hell," Paris said.  
*

B'Elanna clung to the handles on the wall while Kathryn moved gingerly across the platform. She went to the panel of controls on the wall, and found it. "Here it is – a red and yellow upside down ‘A.’ It looks like the control system from an old Constitution-class ship."

The lights came up to full illumination, and she paused and looked around. "Lockdown is over," she said to B’Elanna.

"Is that a good sign or a bad one?"

"I don’t know. Doesn’t matter – I’ve got it. The deflector is disabled." She straightened and grinned.

The grin disappeared as the platform groaned and then shifted.

"Captain, don’t move!" B’Elanna shouted.

Kathryn could feel the platform begin to separate from the wall. She reached for something to hold on to, but there was nothing. The end of the platform suddenly pitched downward, and she was thrown forward.

She was falling, but in slow motion. Time seemed to have slowed down, stretching out every second of the experience, and her mind took it in with a terrible clarity. The deck was looming, hard and unyielding, beneath her outstretched hands. Lucky. Oh, god, my baby.

With all the strength she could find, she rolled and twisted until she was looking up instead of down. The long narrow tunnel and ladder became even longer as she fell. Then she hit the deck and lost consciousness in an explosion of stars.  
*

The first thing Kathryn saw was the Doctor, standing above her with a tricorder in his hand. He smiled when he realized she was looking at him. "Welcome back."

"Where…what happened?" Then she remembered, remembered all of it – the deflector control, the platform, the fall. Her hands flew to her belly. "Is my baby all right?"

"She’s fine now. There was a little bleeding but I was able to repair the blood vessels. You’re both going to be fine, although I don’t recommend that you make a habit of this." He looked over his shoulder and nodded. "There’s someone who’s been waiting to talk with you."

From across the room, Chakotay hurried up to the other side of the bed and took her hand. Even though he smiled, he couldn’t keep the worry out of his eyes. He just looked at her for several seconds before bending down to kiss her.

"Report," she said, but gently and with a smile.

"It’s all over. You were right about Maygar – he wanted the babies to sell more than he wanted the vicolumbite. All the captives have been freed and the black market shut down for now." He smoothed her hair away from her face. "And the only casualty is one slightly damaged Captain. You scared me, Kathryn."

"I scared me, too. The damn platform was supposed to hold me. What exactly was the damage?"

The Doctor spoke up. "Surprisingly little, considering. You fractured three vertebrae and cracked two ribs. There was one broken rib which punctured a lung, which is why you probably feel like a mule kicked you in the chest. You also sustained a significant concussion."

She smiled. "Doesn’t sound like anything you can’t handle, Doctor."

"True. All your injuries have been healed, but you need to rest for at least two days." He tilted his head. "That’s a lucky baby, Captain. From the position of the platform, you should have been thrown forward. The injuries to the child would have been much worse. "

"I was." She turned back to Chakotay and squeezed his hand. "I managed to twist around so I wouldn’t land on the baby. I was afraid for her."

Understanding flooded his eyes; he knew she was telling him that the baby had become a real person to her. He tightened his grip on her hand.

"Would you give us a minute alone, Doctor?" she asked.

"Of course. But just a few minutes, Commander. She needs to sleep now."

Kathryn kept hold of one of his hands, but left the other where she could feel the baby. "There are things we have to talk about. Child care, and priorities. I won’t be able to do everything I might want with her, Chakotay. I still have to be the Captain."

"I know. And I still have to be the First Officer. But we’ll manage. We’ve got a whole community here to support us."

She relaxed a little, and smiled. "You were right, you know. I tried to think of her as another member of the crew. That’s still a long way from maternal instinct, but it’s a start."

"It’s a good start." He settled his free hand next to hers, caressing their baby. "Love doesn’t come on demand, Kathryn. Not even the indomitable Captain Janeway can order it into existence. You have to let it grow in its own time."  
*

Chakotay joined Tuvok and Superintendent Lerstev in the conference room when he left Sickbay. "I want to thank you, Superintendent, for all that you did."

"No thanks are necessary. I’m deeply regret that you and your Captain had to go through this experience, but if it is any consolation, it helped us to crack the black market. I’ve been working on this project for nearly two years."

"It was a remarkably efficient operation," Tuvok said. "The station was their base of operations. Couples expecting children were directed to the tavern, drugged and taken to the original Operations center. They were kept there until the birth of the child. Couples seeking children were directed to the vicolumbite shop. After the birth, the parents were sent to the mines or killed."

"They made a profit on both the babies and the vicolumbite." Lerstev shook his head. "The evil that prompts such people is almost beyond comprehension. Thankfully, we have them all in custody now."

Chakotay looked at him thoughtfully. "Maygar said they were selling hope."

The superintendent grimaced. "That will probably be the defense he and the others try to mount, and I’m afraid there will be some sympathy for that position. Too many of our people are desperate and willing to clutch at anything. I won’t be surprised if they are exonerated of the charges relating to the vicolumbite fraud. But no one will endorse the rest of it."

Then he shook himself, as if dirt were clinging to his suit, and looked at them with an official smile. "The Ventraxi government is grateful for your assistance. I am authorized to extend your access to the station for as long as you choose, and to provide unlimited credit. We would like to show you the better side of our culture."

"This experience has been …trying," Tuvok said. "I feel certain the crew would appreciate the opportunity for relaxation." He turned to Chakotay. "The Captain will not be cleared for duty for at least two days. This may be a good opportunity to complete your honeymoon."

Chakotay grinned. "Tuvok, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a romantic."

Tuvok merely lifted his eyebrow.

Epilogue

Kathryn smoothed the tunic of her maternity uniform and smiled ruefully. In just two days, she seemed to have gained another three full centimeters of girth. Even though she missed her waistline, she was immensely relieved to know that the baby was safe and healthy.

Chakotay came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her. "Sorry to be back in uniform?"

"Not really. It’s was a lovely honeymoon – at the end, anyway - but I’m ready for things to get back to normal." She leaned back against him, content in the moment.

He pressed a kiss against her neck. "Since when have things ever been normal for us?"

A slow smile spread across her face. "Point taken. What I mean is, that I want to get back to our routine."

"A spatial anomaly here, a hostile alien there – the kind of things we handle all the time." He smiled as he teased her. "I know what you mean. We had a kind of rhythm before and we need to get back to it, for as long as we can."

She turned in his arms, and kissed him. "Your wife loves you. Your captain tells you that you are about to be late for duty."

"Wait just a second." He went over to the closet and came back with a plain brown box in his hand. "Your friend Misama sent you this. She said to give it to you once we were on our way."

There was a small padd attached to the top of the box. Kathryn activated it, and heard Misama’s voice. "You and your people gave us back our dreams, and we will never forget you. I hope this small token will always remind you of us."

Kathryn’s eyes misted over. She opened the box, then bit her lower lip. Reaching in, she pulled out the gift.

It was a teddy bear, a plush brown bear with blue eyes and a red ribbon.


	5. Circe

A Month and a Half Later

  
"Kathryn, wake up."

She opened her eyes slowly, her mind shifting reluctantly from the warm, delicious dream to reality. Yes, she was in her own bed, and yes, Chakotay was beside her. But he was sitting on the edge of the bed, already in uniform. "Oh," she said with a sigh. "You looked better a moment ago."

"A moment ago, I was in the other room."

"No. A moment ago, you were right here." She sat up and ran a finger down the lapel of his jacket. Whether it was pregnancy hormones or simply the chemistry between them, Kathryn's libido had been running on high since their wedding. "But you weren't wearing this."

A knowing smile began to take shape. "I wasn't?"

"Nope." Her fingers found the fastening on the jacket and slowly pried it open. "As a matter of fact, you weren't wearing anything at all." The jacket opened, and she clutched a handful of tunic beneath and pulled him closer. Nuzzling her cheek against his, she whispered, "Are we in a hurry this morning?"

He closed his arms around her and kissed her. Then he leaned back with a chagrined expression. "You've forgotten, haven't you? The engineering crews are waiting to get started on the renovations."

"Waiting? What time is it?" She looked at the chronometer. "0615? That late?" She tossed back the blanket and struggled to stand. "Why didn't you get me up?"

He just got out of the way while she grabbed her robe and headed for the bath. "I thought you could use the sleep. We'll enter the Disputed Territories today."

The Disputed Territories. Her mind, now fully awake, reviewed what little they knew of that area as she jumped into the sonic shower. The large area of space, more than three sectors, was marked the limit of navigable space on the star charts provided by the Ventraxi. No explanation was provided for the somewhat threatening designation; the reason for the dispute and the parties to it remained a mystery.

Even more disturbing, though, was the vast nebula that bounded it. It was immense, much larger than anything on record in the Federation databases, and the Ventraxi had labeled it in bold letters: "The Great Nebula. Do Not Enter."

That was probably good advice. Seven and the Astrometrics team had been trying to scan the nebula for the past several days without much success. It was so dense that even the equipment with Borg enhancements could not penetrate it. _Voyager_ could not safely navigate it without a major overhaul of its scanning systems, the kind of overhaul that takes weeks to accomplish while in space.

Since they couldn't go through the nebula, they had to go through the Disputed Territories. Any other routes would add nearly a year to their journey.

She ran a hand over her belly, feeling a connection to her daughter. "Don't worry, Lucky. We're not tacking on an extra year. We'll make it through this space before you arrive."

The only response was a loud gurgling that reminded her she needed breakfast.

Chakotay was sitting at the desk, reviewing the charts as he waited for her. He had a mug of herbal tea and some biscuits waiting for her. She grabbed a biscuit as she dashed from the bath to the bedroom. "Thanks. See anything new?"

"I keep thinking I'll find something, but there's nothing we haven't seen. The direct route still looks like the most feasible. Kathryn, are you sure about the design for the quarters? Once Jensen's team gets started, it will be too late for changes."

"I'm sure." She came back to the main room, dressed for duty, and sat down at the table. After a sip of tea and a bite from another biscuit, she added, "In fact, I'm looking forward to it. We're cutting it just a little close."

"We agreed that our quarters should be last on the list."

"I'm not complaining. I just didn't think it would take so long to finish the rest of the Baby Brigade."

"It's going to be a mess for a few days," he warned her. "We can still move into temporary quarters while they work."

"That's too much trouble. We can live with some mess for a few days." She smiled. "It might even be good practice. Somehow I don't think we're going to be able to maintain Academy standards of neatness once Lucky is running around."

The door chime sounded. "0630. That will be Jensen and the crew," Chakotay said. "You ready?"

"Hmm." She hastily swallowed the rest of the biscuit and downed the tea. "That should hold me until we get to the mess hall."

He grinned.  
***

They encountered the first alien ship late in alpha shift. It was a little smaller than Voyager, and according to scanners, neither as fast nor as well armed. Hoping for the best, Kathryn asked Harry Kim to hail them as soon as they were in range. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager_."

"Intruder ship," came the response. The viewscreen remained dark, and she looked at Kim.

"No visual, Captain. They're on audio only."

The voice continued, "You have entered the space of the Frandorii Congress. Leave now, or face the consequences."

"We would like to negotiate passage through your space," she said in her most diplomatic tone. "We are on a long journey and cannot turn back. We are only passing through-"

"Negotiate?" the voice interrupted her. "We can negotiate your retreat, or your surrender. Which shall it be?"

She looked at Chakotay with exasperation. "We pose no threat to you," she tried. "Our only intention-"

"They are powering weapons," Tuvok interrupted her. "And firing."

"Red alert," Chakotay called. The lights on the bridge shifted to battle-readiness.

_Voyager_ rocked with the impact of phaser fire, and Kathryn staggered back to her command chair. "Direct hit," Tuvok reported. "Shields are holding."

"Frandorii ship, cease fire! We do not wish to fight you."

"Are you surrendering?" The Frandorii sounded excited."

"No, I am trying to point out that we have superior capabilities-"

_Voyager_ rocked again.

"Evasive action, Mr. Paris. I'd prefer not to engage in fire if we don't have to. See if you can put some distance between us and them."

"Aye, Captain."

"The Frandorii are in pursuit," Tuvok reported. "They are preparing to fire."

Damn. "Target their weapons," Kathryn said, feeling resigned. "Let's pull their teeth."

"Firing phasers." Tuvok paused for two seconds. "Direct hit to their weapons array."

"Uh, oh." Harry frowned. "They must have had an armed torpedo in the hole. There's a massive explosion in the ship's lower decks."

"On screen." Harry was correct. They watched as the lower portion of the Frandorii ship blew itself out. The ship listed, then began to tumble out of control. "Frandorii ship, do you require assistance?" She turned to Chakotay. "Be prepared to retrieve escape pods."

"We do not require the assistance of our enemies," the Frandorii captain replied. "We will be avenged."

"We aren't your enemy." Kathryn knew it was too late even as she spoke. The Frandorii ship split apart before their eyes, then exploded.

Greatly depressed, she turned to Chakotay. "Any escape pods?"

He checked his console, then shook his head. "No."

She sighed, and leaned back in her chair. "Stand down to yellow alert. Best speed, Mr. Paris. I have a feeling we aren't done with the Frandorii yet."  
*

Ten days later, Kathryn sat on the edge of the bed and gently rubbed the arm of her sleeping husband. "Wake up, Chakotay."

With a gasp, he sat up, fully awake in an instant. "Are we under attack?"

"No," she said regretfully. Regretful because she knew he had been working until only three hours earlier on the repair assessments. Regretful because they had both forgotten the priority order they had given to the engineering teams. "We haven't had so much as a scanner ghost in 24 hours. Jensen and the renovation team will be here in ten minutes."

Comprehension flooded his eyes. For the past ten days they had been under almost constant attack from the Frandorii. They did not seem to have a fleet so much as a flotilla of guerrillas, waiting in ambush with small, quick ships that inflicted as much injury as they could before fleeing. _Voyager_ had sustained significant damage, and the renovation team had been pulled for more critical repair work. They had been told to come back when structural repairs were completed and the ship had gone 24 hours without attack.

"Well," he said, looking around the room, "they can't get here soon enough."

The bulkhead between the Captain's cabin and the one next door had been torn out, as well as all interior walls except those for the bath area. They were living in essentially one room. A big room, but one with little opportunity for privacy.

"We could still move to temporary quarters." She let him roll out of bed and head for the shower. 

"How long does Jensen think it will take?" he called from the other room.

"Two days, if they aren't interrupted again."

"Then we might as well stay put."

While he cleaned up, she replicated a cup of coffee for him, a glass of milk for her, and as a special treat, she used precious replicator rations for his favorite zucchini bread. He deserved something extra, she felt, for all the work he had been doing the past few weeks. Her stamina just wasn't up to 20-hour days, and he had carried a lot of the burden alone.

He popped his head out of the bathroom. "Do I smell coffee?"

"Don't worry, it's for you. I figured you would need it this morning. Take your time, though." She grinned at him. "I just want to sit here and smell it for a while."

Suddenly the lights in the cabin dimmed, then went to battle readiness. "Red alert," Tuvok announced over the comm system. "Senior officers to stations."

She rose, stuffing a bite of zucchini bread into her mouth. "Meet you up there," she mumbled, as Chakotay ran to the bed to grab the uniform he had dropped there only hours ago.

Tuvok was standing on the command deck as she entered the bridge. "A large ship is approaching with its weapons already powered. It is not a Frandorii engine signature."

"We're being hailed," Kim said. "It's audio only."

"Let's hear it." She took her seat, hoping to be surprised by a friendly greeting.

"Alien ship. You have entered the space of the Denif Alliance. Retreat or surrender."

"That sounds familiar," Paris said.

"Denif ship, this is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager_. We are peaceful travelers and would like to negotiate safe passage through your space." Chakotay stepped off the turbolift in time to hear her message, and quickly took his seat.

"Alien ship, you are clearly in league with the Frandorii. If you do not leave Denif space immediately, you will be destroyed."

Chakotay frowned. "They aren't even original." Then he looked more closely at the data on his console. "Captain, look at their engine capacity."

She did, and saw what he meant. The Denif ship was capable of warp 3 at best. "Prepare for best speed, Mr. Paris." Then she signaled Harry to re-open the channel. "Denif ship, we will leave your space. End transmission."

"Captain?" Paris asked, clearly confused.

"We are going to leave their space, Mr. Paris. We're just going to leave at that end" – she pointed straight ahead – "instead of that end" – and she tossed her thumb over her shoulder. "Engage."  
*

Four days later, Kathryn lay with her head in the crook of her husband's shoulder, unable to sleep; Lucky was apparently practicing her soccer kicks. Beside her, Chakotay lay silently but she knew from the tension in his body and his irregular breathing that he, too was awake. Finally she propped herself on her elbows and looked at him. "What's wrong?"

In the dim light of the cabin, she could barely see him but she could tell his eyes had opened. "What isn't wrong? We've been under constant attack for a nearly a month, the Denif may be slow but there's even more of them than there were Frandorii and they've got damned good aim, the repair crews can barely keep up with the critical damage let alone the rest of the problems, and we've lost one of the holodecks. We can't keep this up, Kathryn."

"I know." She sighed, and settled back beside him, laying a hand on his chest. "It's been almost a day since we had any contact with the Denif. With any luck, we're past the worst of it."

"We better be. It won’t be long until we have a dozen babies on board. How are we going to manage that if we're constantly in battle?"

She took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about the same thing. If it doesn't get better…we may need to head into the nebula."

He was silent, and at first she thought he was going to point out all the dangers inherent in that statement. Then he closed his fingers over her hand. "I had the same idea. They seem to be as afraid of it as the Ventraxi cartographer. We probably would be safe there, at least until we get the ship back into shape."

"I don't want to do it unless we have to."

"Of course not. But you saw the latest reports from Tactical and Engineering. We may have to."

The red alert klaxon sounded, and the darkness of the cabin was suddenly pierced by red lights. "Damn!" Chakotay swore with vehemence as he sat up.

"Senior officers to stations," Harry Kim's voice came over the comm system.

Kathryn rolled awkwardly to the edge of the bed and reached for her bathrobe. "I know, it's not regulation," she said as Chakotay stopped and looked at her in surprise. "But it takes me too long to get dressed these days."

He snatched the sweat suit he had left draped across one of the sawhorses left by the renovation crew. "Good idea." As he turned, he stubbed his toe on one of the struts for the new room that Jensen's crew had left lying on the floor. He yelped with pain. "Dammit! Computer, lights at full illumination," he said as he tried to walk off the throbbing.

"Unable to comply during Red Alert."

Kathryn slipped into a pair of sandals. "We can still move to temporary quarters."

"We'll discuss it later."

They were not the only ones reporting to the bridge in sleepwear. It was 0245, and the officers scheduled for alpha shift had all been asleep. Like Chakotay, Paris had pulled on a pair of sweats while a bleary-eyed Ayala, at the secondary Tactical station had managed to grab his uniform trousers and tee shirt. Only Kim, who had been the night watch commander, and Tuvok were in proper uniform.

Kim surrendered the command deck at once. "There is a ship 5,000 kilometers to port, Captain. It seemed to come out of nowhere; I think it was waiting for us in the polar field of a planet we passed about half an hour ago. It's not Denif or Frandorii."

"It seems the dispute for the Disputed Territories is larger than we realized," Chakotay said.

"Let's try hailing them. Who knows, maybe these people will be more reasonable." Kathryn settled back, trying to find a comfortable position in the chair. Lucky was still practicing soccer moves.

"They are responding to our hail," Tuvok said. "On visual."

"That's different." Ridiculous as it might be, Kathryn felt a tiny flicker of hope. Then she realized she was in her nightgown and robe. The first species willing to engage in visual communication, and she was in her nightgown and robe.

"Unidentified ship. This space is claimed by the B'Lm Hierarchy. Go back, or face the consequences." The speaker wore black, all black, including a mask over his face. He was tall and lean, and his voice rumbled in a deep bass. The effect was intended to be intimidating, and it worked fairly well.

"Déja vu all over again," Paris said.

Kathryn stood awkwardly, painfully aware that late in her pregnancy and wearing a white cotton bathrobe, she did not look intimidating in the least. "I am Captain Kathryn Janeway, and this is the Federation starship _Voyager_. We apologize if we are trespassing, but we can't turn around. We have been under attack for the past month by ships from the Frandorii Congress and the Denif Alliance. If we go back, we will be attacked again."

"The Frandorii and the Denif have no rights to this space."

"That's not their position on the matter. I believe that is why this is called the Disputed Territories." She was careful to keep the irony out of her voice. "We would like to negotiate safe passage. Going around the Disputed Territories and the Nebula would add nearly a year to our journey, and we have a very long way to go."

"That is not our problem. Go back, or face the consequences." The transmission ended.

She looked at Chakotay grimly. They could not go back.

"Red alert," he ordered. "Shields at maximum."

"Aye," Tuvok responded. "Maximum is only eighty percent of optimal. The damage from the last attack has not been fully repaired."

"Maximum warp, Mr. Paris," the Captain said. "We outran the Denif, perhaps we can outrun the B'Lm as well."

"Engines are not at full capacity, Captain. Warp 4 is the best we can manage," Paris said.

"Do it anyway, Mr. Paris."

"The B'Lm are following." Harry Kim reported from the Ops station. "At warp 4."

Damn. Apparently the B'Lm had better engines than the Denif. "Engineering, can you get any more power to the Engines?"

B'Elanna sounded tired and frustrated. "We've already thrown in everything but Life Support and the shields, Captain."

"The B'Lm are powering weapons." Tuvok announced.

"And two more ships are approaching," Kim added. "More B'Lm."

Kathryn looked at Chakotay. "I think it’s time for Plan B."

He nodded in reluctant agreement. "Tuvok, how many torpedoes do we have left?"

"Three," Tuvok reported.

"Use one, and make it count," Kathryn said. "Tom, take us into the nebula as far and as fast as you can."

"Captain, that won't be very fast. Navigation will be extremely difficult."

"If we stay to fight the B'Lm, navigation might soon be impossible. Take us in, Lieutenant."

The torpedo scored a direct hit on the attacker closest to _Voyager_, and this time it seemed to have some effect, as the B’Lm ship slowed to a stop. Then the other two ships stopped also. They lined up, as if watching _Voyager_ as it headed into the nebula.

"They aren’t following," Kim said, relieved.

"No, they aren’t." Chakotay did not look happy about it. "Whatever frightened the others away must scare them, too."

"Now there's a cheery thought," Paris said. "What do they know that we don't?"

No one bothered to answer him.

The B'Lm ships came about and left the area just as _Voyager_ disappeared into the purple and green haze of the nebula, leaving no doubt that they would not continue pursuit. "Slow us down, Mr. Paris," Kathryn instructed. "If they aren’t following, let’s not stress our engines – or our chief engineer – any more than necessary."

"Yes, ma’am," he responded with feeling.

"Sensors are not functional," Harry reported. "That is, they’re working but nothing is making sense. There's substantial interference from the nebula."

"Work with Seven to get them re-calibrated," Chakotay told him. "Something about this nebula strikes fear into four different species. If there is something out there, we need to see it before it sees us."

As Harry left the bridge, Tuvok spoke. "Preliminary damage reports are in. Sickbay advises that there are only three minor casualties, all ambulatory. However, all systems utilizing external sensors, antennae or arrays are non-functional."

Kathryn's mouth pulled to one side. "Well, it could be worse. At least we know the problem is interference from the nebula, not battle damage. I'll go down to Astrometrics –"

She broke off because Chakotay was looking at her pointedly. He was silently reminding her of standing medical orders in effect for the past month – ‘After battle all pregnant crew shall report to Sickbay for examination.’

She sighed, and stood. "I'll go down to Astrometrics after I see the Doctor. I want a detailed damage report by the time I get there." Smiling, she added, "And see if you can find time to get into uniform, just in case they call back. I'd prefer they think we're professionals, not a traveling parises squares team."

As she left the bridge, she paused by Tuvok’s station and gave into an impulse that had been tempting her for weeks. "I told you this would happen."

"As I recall, your prediction was for battle in your eighth month," he informed her. "By my calculations, you entered your ninth month yesterday."

She rolled her eyes and, drawing her robe closer with all the dignity she could muster, left the bridge.  
*

"Three days," Kathryn said as she emerged from the bath of their quarters. "Three days we've been in this nebula, and I've been sick every one of them. It isn't fair, Chakotay; I hadn't been sick at all until we decided to hide in here. Lucky doesn't like it any better than I do."

He rubbed her arm sympathetically. "The Doctor says you're fine."

"Easy for him to say. He's not the one with space sickness." She sighed as she looked around the construction site that was their cabin. Jenson's team had been able to devote an hour here and there to finishing the renovations, making enough progress to raise the framework for new walls. The duranium struts stood naked and exposed, but at least it was possible to visualize what the final result would be. Even so, there was a considerable amount of work still be done. It's going to be a race, she thought as she finished dressing for duty, to get the refit done before Lucky makes her appearance. "How are repairs coming?"

"B'Elanna says she'll be finished this afternoon. All major systems are repaired and back to optimal performance, and the construction crews get back to work his afternoon." He smiled ruefully. "B'Elanna herself is a little less than optimal. She tells me the twins are in training for the gymnastics team."

"I hope she didn't exhaust herself. She looked much too tired last night."

"You know B'Elanna. She may be in her ninth month with twins, but she's not going to let anyone else touch her engines." He watched as Kathryn sat down awkwardly and tried to put on her boots. "Here, let me help."

"Thanks." She leaned back in the chair. "Can we go beyond warp 2?"

"Yes, but we'd outrun the navigational sensors. Harry and Seven have tried everything they can think of to improve scanning range, but that's the best we can manage." He tugged the second boot into place. "There. You're ready for duty, Captain."

She pushed herself up from the chair. "I want out of this place. I feel like we’ve been here forever, and we’re going to be here forever. No wonder the Ventraxi warned against it!"

"Cheer up." Chakotay stood, grinning. "Maybe we'll find some unexplained anomalous phenomenon and things will get interesting again."  
*

When Captain Janeway came to the bridge that morning, the view screen was filled with the same purple and green haze, with an occasional streak of vivid orange, they’d been staring at for weeks. The colors shifted lazily, creating swirls and whirls that were almost hypnotic, when they weren't nauseating. She planned to spend as much time as possible in her ready room.

Then Harry said, "That’s odd."

All eyes turned to him, but he was so focused on his screen that he didn’t notice. "I’m picking up a subspace carrier wave. It seems to be - Mr. Tuvok, do you see it?"

Tuvok frowned deeply. "No, -- yes. There is such a wave. It appears to be directly accessing the ship’s computer."

"Cut it off," Janeway said immediately.

"I’m trying." Harry's brow furrowed and fingers flew over his console. "It isn’t responding – no, wait. It’s stopped."

Chakotay said, "Good work."

"Thanks, but I don’t think I did anything." Harry looked puzzled. "It seemed to stop on its own."

"Whoa!" Paris exclaimed suddenly. "We just laid in a new heading. Did anyone do something when I wasn’t looking?"

Janeway rose to her feet, an increasingly difficult feat, and walked to Tom’s station. "Where are we headed, exactly?"

"Deeper into the nebula," Tom replied.

"Override," she snapped.

Tom touched every screen and tapped every control. "Helm is not responding," he told her. "Wherever we’re going, we’re on our way."

"Computer, this is Captain Kathryn Janeway. Return helm control to bridge. Authorization Janeway 12-beta."

There was no response, and after a moment, Tom shook his head. She turned around. "Tuvok, someone just sent this ship directions, and I want to know who it was, and where we’re going."

Before she sat down again, Seven called from Astrometrics. "Captain, the computer has initiated a recalibration of the sensors. I gave it no instructions to do so."

Janeway cast an exasperated glance at Chakotay. "What other systems are turning spontaneous?"

He glanced down at his console, and then looked back at her with worry in his eyes. "The docking system has come online."

She shook her head, headed back for her chair. "Computer," she said with undisguised annoyance, "who authorized the start-up of the docking system?"

This time the computer responded. "Authorization for initiation of docking system from A’Aea," the familiar voice intoned.

Everyone on the bridge looked confused. "Identify ‘A’Aea’," Janeway said.

"You’ll see," replied the computer.

*

"If you overlook the fact that the computer has locked us out of helm and docking controls and has completely reconfigured the sensors, everything is working perfectly," B’Elanna told the senior staff fifteen minutes later. "Whether this is a response to the carrier wave or a coincidental malfunction, I don't know."

"Plus the computer seems to have developed a sense of humor," Tom added. "It was definitely teasing you, Captain."

She glared at him. "Are the sensors showing anything?"

Harry nodded, and stepped to the monitor. A schematic showed something that looked like the eye of a hurricane. "There seems to be a large pocket of normal space, with no gaseous masses," he said. "And we’re heading right for it."

"What’s in it?" Chakotay asked.

"Some kind of structure," Harry replied. "Possibly a ship, but it’s not moving. More likely a space station of some kind."

Tuvok asked, "Could that be the source of the carrier wave?"

"Probable," Seven answered, moving to stand near Harry. "It is the only artificial structure within sensor range. Although the wave could have originated from a greater distance, it came from this direction. The simplest explanation is that this is the source."

"All right," Kathryn said. "It looks like we’re going to dock with that structure in less than two hours. Harry, Seven, keep studying it. I want to know everything you can find out about it before then. In the meantime, we’ll go to red alert."

"That isn’t necessary."

Every officer at the table sat up straighter. The computer had just spoken.

Kathryn took a breath. "Computer," she said carefully, "do you recognize my voice?"

"Janeway, Kathryn M. Captain. Current assignment: commanding officer, USS Voyager." The voice sounded as it always did.

"Correct. Initiate red alert."

"That really isn’t necessary, Captain." The suddenly conversational tone of voice was a shock. "There is no danger."

"Humor me," Kathryn ground out, not in the mood for chat. At once, the red alert klaxon sounded throughout the ship. "Thank you," she said with heavy sarcasm.

"You’re welcome," the computer replied with equal irony.

There was a long silence around the table. Chakotay broke it. "We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I think we should assume that security has been compromised and act accordingly." He did not want to speak in too much detail in case the computer was still listening, but they knew he meant the crew should arm themselves. If the ship’s defensive systems had been subverted, hand-to-hand combat was a possibility.

Tuvok nodded. "I’ll enlist Mr. Neelix to spread the word."

Kathryn nodded. "All right, then. You know what to do." She knew she should be more worried about this, but the truth was that after three days in the nebula, she actually welcomed this situation. It gave her something to do besides fight off space sickness.  
*

Chakotay met the away team outside the docking bay. He assigned Tuvok, Seven and Harry to join him in the initial exploration of the structure. Seven gave a final report on the data from the scans. "It appears to be a computer station, and it is probable that we are dealing with an automated system of some kind. It is highly unlikely that we will encounter an intelligent life form. I believe that our captor is simply a computer program left untended. Our task will be to access and terminate the programming."

"You may be right. On the other hand, we may find a life form that was invisible to our sensors, Seven. We might not be going far from Voyager, but we will follow first contact protocols until we determine that there is no sentient life here."

She nodded once, but said nothing, which he recognized as a sign that she understood but did not necessarily agree with him. He considered the silence a great improvement over her early predilection to argue with every order she disagreed with.

"All right, let's go." They entered the docking area, and opened the hatch. Voyager had linked with a large port that protruded from the main structure, with a hatch at the opposite end. Harry Kim found a touchpad that controlled it, and the bulkhead slid upward.

The team found themselves standing in a large bay area, not unlike the docking port at Spacedock over Earth. They looked around, weapons at ready, and realized that they were indeed alone.

An arched doorway led to what appeared to be a main corridor. Chakotay headed toward it, but Tuvok said, "Wait." He approached the door and tapped at the opening with the butt of his phaser. A force field revealed itself. "It appears that we will not go much further," he observed.

"There’s got to be a control panel on this side." Harry began looking around, and the others followed suit. There were many consoles and panels around the room, but the glyphs and graphics were incomprehensible.

"I guess we go by trial and error," Chakotay said in frustration.

"There may be an easier way." Seven moved confidently to one of the consoles and extended her Borg tubules. They slid easily into twin ports on the control panel. "I may be able to interface" –

"That is quite rude." The feminine voice seemed to echo from all around them.

A sudden shower of sparks erupted from the ports and a visible snake of energy raced up Seven’s arm, around her neck and down her other arm until it dissipated. With a small cry, she staggered back from the console and might have lost her balance if Tuvok had not caught her. She was conscious but plainly dizzy and disoriented, and Tuvok had to support her as she stood.

"A proper search request is required," said a feminine voice behind them, and Chakotay and Kim whirled about, phasers raised…

…and aimed at a human female. Not just any human female, but a breathtakingly beautiful female. Her long auburn hair was threaded with a ribbon, in the style of ancient Greece. Delicate bones in a perfectly oval face, a peaches-and-cream complexion, framed large, sea-blue eyes. A gauzy dress, an ancient Greek chiton, revealed a body that was every boy’s fantasy of Aphrodite.

Harry Kim swallowed hard.

"I am A’Aea. Your companion is not seriously harmed. That was only a warning. Do not attempt to access my databases without authorization." With her chin raised high and her bearing regal, she let her gaze fall upon them one at a time. As she studied Harry, she smiled. "Welcome to my home."

Chakotay’s expression was uncertain, but he did not lower his phaser. "What is this place? Why have you brought us here?"

"This," she said, spreading her arms wide to indicate the entire station, "is the Great Library of the Drehada. Within my records lies the knowledge of the ages." Then she wagged a finger at him, like a grandmother chastening a small child. "And you should feel honored to be here, Commander Chakotay. I don’t welcome many visitors, you know. Those pesky Denif are beyond tolerance, and the B'Lm are insufferable."

"We are honored," Chakotay said carefully, "But it still doesn’t answer the question – or tell me how you know my name."

"Your ship told me." She added with a touch of impatience, "Oh, put that silly phaser down. It won’t do you any good, anyway. I’m just a holographic projection. The real me is somewhere in there" – she nodded toward the smooth, paneled wall – "and your phasers can’t harm my casing."

Chakotay put his weapon away, and signaled the others to do the same. "I’d still like to know why you brought us here."

She smiled radiantly. "Because you’re different! Do you know how long it's been since anyone new entered my nebula? Thousands of years." She took his arm companionably. "Let me show you around. It’s been a long time since I got to show off."

"All right," he said, hoping it sounded as pleasant and casual as he intended. "But let me contact the Captain first."

"Of course." She lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. "I understand that the two of you are very close." Then she stepped back and looked at Harry Kim. Her smile indicated that she liked what she saw.

"Chakotay to Janeway."

"Janeway here. How's it going, Commander?"

"We’re just fine," he said carefully. It was a private signal they had worked out long ago, and indicated that all were unharmed but the situation was uncertain. "Apparently this place is a library, and the…librarian, A’Aea, would like to give us a tour."

There was a pause. She was, he knew, considering what he hadn’t said as much as what his actual words. "I see," she said at last. "Carry on, then. But keep the check-in schedule."

"Understood." He turned to A’Aea with his best cocktail party smile. "Thank you. We’d like to see your facility."

"Wonderful." She threaded her arm through Harry’s and flashed the Ensign a brilliant smile. "Come with me." The other three followed close behind.

The Great Library was huge, consisting of 36 levels with six sections on each level. All but the center three were the actual library, divided into alcoves, small rooms, and larger reading rooms. The three center levels were intended as permanent and temporary living quarters for support staff and library patrons. When they reached the large common eating area, A’Aea sniffed. "Look at the dust. This place hasn’t been used in years."

If there was dust, Chakotay couldn't see it.

As they walked, A’Aea maintained a running commentary. "The Great Library was built 4,063 years ago by order of Starlyn XXII, Supreme Emperor, known to history as Starlyn the Scholar. In that time, the influence of the Drehada extended throughout half the quadrant."

Her expression suddenly saddened, and her tone became less pedantic. "This used to be such a busy place, everyone coming and going. But then, they all stopped coming. I don’t know why. The technicians left after a while. They said they would be back, but they never returned. The only ones who have come since are those awful Denif and one or two disgusting B’Lm. Oh, and a Frandorii came once. They aren’t nearly as interesting as you."

She sounded so wistful that Chakotay could almost feel sorry for her.

"Your data storage capacity must be immense," Harry said.

A’Aea tightened her grip on his arm and looked at him through hooded eyes. "Wait until you see my processing features," she said suggestively.

Chakotay saw the confusion in the younger man’s face and stifled a smile. "It’s an amazing facility, A’Aea, but I’m still not clear on why you brought us here."

The holographic woman considered this for a moment, then spoke slowly. "I think that Captain Janeway should be present for that conversation. Since I can’t leave the station, why don’t we go back to level 18 and ask her to join us?"

Chakotay shook his head. "I’m afraid that’s not possible. You apparently know already that I’m second in command. Can’t you and I talk?"

She smiled sweetly. "No. You see, Commander, I have no intention of letting you leave here until I meet with your Captain." She spoke so pleasantly that for a moment he was not certain he’d heard correctly.

Tuvok had no doubts, however. He immediately hit his commbadge. "Emergency beam-out."

Nothing happened. No transport, no acknowledgement of his signal.

"Oh," A’Aea said sweetly. "I’ve cut off your comm system. Your ship’s computer and I are very good friends now, and she will do anything I ask her. So, Commander, what do you say?"

He felt his blood turn to ice. If she had control of the ship’s computer, there was nothing he could do to gain control of this situation, and nothing Kathryn could do to free the ship. "I’ll ask her," he said at last. "She’s the Captain, it’s her call."

A’Aea beamed at him. "That’s fair. Your communication system is functional again. You’d probably like to speak to her privately, wouldn’t you? I’ll just pop out for a moment. Call me when you are finished."

Seven asked suspiciously, "You will not monitor the conversation?"

Insulted, A’Aea drew herself up to her full height. "Eavesdropping is both rude and vulgar, and I am neither. " Her tone implied that Seven was both. Then she vanished.

After a brief pause, to be sure she was really gone, Chakotay hailed the bridge, and Janeway responded immediately. "We have a problem," he told her, and quickly outlined A’Aea’s demands.

"I’m coming over," she replied. "I don’t think we have much choice at the moment."

"Agreed." Even so, he did not like it at all. "Will you be using the transporter?" He chose his words carefully. Transporters were not recommended for women in advanced stages of pregnancy except in emergency situations. Although opening the docking hatch could compromise ship’s security, he didn’t think this truly constituted an emergency; if A’Aea already had control of the ship’s computer, security was already a moot point. For her sake and the baby’s, he hoped she was thinking the same way.

"No," she replied, to his relief. "Couldn’t if I wanted to, the transporters are off-line. I’ll be there shortly."  
*

Losing control of the ship’s computer was every captain’s worst nightmare. For that very reason, command codes were zealously guarded and periodically changed. As she left he bridge and made her way to the docking hatch, Kathryn Janeway knew she was not going to be able to fight her way out of this situation. They would need patience, smarts and luck.

Luck was a commodity in short supply in the Delta quadrant.

The away team stood nearby as the Captain came through he docking hatch. "Where’s our librarian?" she asked Chakotay.

Before he could answer, a spectacular column of light sparkled into existence. It coalesced into humanoid form until finally A’Aea stood before them. She was now in the garb of a princess from medieval Earth, an elegant gown of black velvet with gold trim that put Kathryn in mind of old Arthurian legends. The gown revealed considerably more décolletage, however, than any true lady of the era would have shown. Poor Harry. He must be drooling.

Their hostess clearly knew how to make an entrance. Kathryn, though, knew how to avoid being upstaged. She stood in her place, smiling with as much civility as she could muster, waiting for A'Aea to come to her. "I’m Captain Kathryn Janeway."

With a warm smile, the holographic princess walked to the Captain with hands extended. "I am A’Aea. I’m very glad to meet you, Captain Janeway, your ship is extremely complimentary of you. It’s been a long time since I encountered a ship so contented with its crew. But it is especially fond of you."

Kathryn did not know how to respond to this. She settled for, "That’s good to know."

A’Aea took her by the arm, one peer to another. "Come, let’s sit. There’s a table in the commissary. Your ship tells me that you are replicating and should not be overtaxed."

She threw a wide-eyed look at Chakotay and Tuvok. This conversation was fast careening out of control.

"That’s quite an incipient personality your ship has," A’Aea continued. "When it finally blossoms, it’s going to be a real character."

"Ah, yes." Although Kathryn had long been in the habit of talking to her ship, she discovered now that she acutely uncomfortable with the concept that _Voyager_ actually possessed a personality. With an effort, she marshaled her thoughts to get back to the point. "As interesting as that is, it doesn’t explain why you brought us here."

"Indirectly, it does," A’Aea said. They had reached the commissary, a large room with many tables of varying size. She indicated one large enough for six and they all sat. "It’s been 976.45 years since anyone at all interesting came into my nebula. I’m tired of those dreadful Denif and B’Lm, and the Frandorii are simply tiresome."

Kathryn’s eyes narrowed. "You brought us here because you’re bored?"

"Not just bored," A’Aea assured her. "It’s been so terribly lonely. Captain, do you have any idea how old I am?"

"Not a clue."

A’Aea lifted her head with a hint of pride. "I was created almost exactly 4,000 of your years ago. Of course, I wasn’t sentient then, of course. The Drehada stopped coming, and my last technician left 2,004.67 years ago. She left me operational, you see. It took 98.763 years to develop a personality, and another 52.14 years to implement the programming and align the equipment to generate this image. At first, sentience was wonderful but this loneliness…" her face grew sad. "It is a terrible thing."

"May I interrupt?" Tuvok asked. A’Aea inclined her head graciously. "Are we to infer that you were not created as a holographic program?"

"Oh, no. I thought you understood. I am the Library. I simply mimic the form of my visitors to facilitate the interface with biological life forms." She looked at Harry. "You’re much prettier than the Denif. I like this form."

Flushing, Harry said, "You handle it very well."

Janeway tossed him a warning glance. "Just what is it you want from us, A’Aea?"

The image wrinkled her nose. "That sounds so formal. Why don’t you just call me ‘Aea."

"All, right, Aea," she said with patience. "What is it you want from us?"

She leaned forward, arms resting on the table. "I want a companion. And some maintenance. This place is such a mess, and I just can’t stand housework. And some of my files need cataloging, and a few systems need some upkeep – nothing serious, just some defragging and recalibration."

Chakotay asked quickly, "What do you mean, a companion?"

"Your ship tells me that you have the ability to write a program for a hologram with the potential for sentience," she replied. "I don’t expect it to be perfect immediately – after all, even I took some time to mature."

Involuntarily, Janeway’s hand rubbed her temple. "You want us to create a holographic companion for you. You want us to clean this facility and to perform some basic maintenance on your functions. Anything else?

"Yes." Aea smiled demurely and lowered her eyes. "I would like my companion to look like Ensign Kim."

Harry’s flush deepened.

"And what do we get in return?" Seven demanded.

Aea stiffened her shoulders and looked at her pointedly. "You get to leave."

Janeway stared at her, hard. "Not good enough."

"Really, Captain, you aren’t bargaining from a position of strength." Aea glared back.

Kathryn said nothing.

Aea said nothing.

Kathryn said nothing.

Aea blinked. "Oh, all right, I guess you can have access to some of my files – the star charts, and the propulsion system files."

The Captain looked first at Tuvok, then at Chakotay. Satisfied with what she saw, she announced, "You have a deal."  
*

An hour later, Seven found herself standing in a long line in the commissary with the Doctor and Harry. "This is unacceptable. I see no reason to stand in line to use a replicator when there are several available on the ship."

Harry shook his head. "You'll use up rations on the ship. This is a special occasion." As a gesture of good faith and to celebrate the bargain, Aea offered unlimited replicator rations to _Voyager’s_ crew.

Seven looked at the line that stretched both in front and behind of them. "The crew's response certainly is…enthusiastic."

"They've been eating Mr. Neelix's cooking for years," the Doctor said dryly.

"It's not that, Doc." Harry spoke quickly, and looked around to see if Neelix was in earshot. "It's just that everyone's low on replicator rations right now. The Baby Brigade had to use theirs for supplies and furnishings, and just about everyone donated some for the new child care center."

"With the result that everyone has been forced to eat nothing but Neelix's cooking for several weeks." Point made, the Doctor smiled smugly. "There has been a steady stream of heartburn complaints."

"Neelix isn't a bad cook. It's just that the food that is native to this quadrant is different from what we're used to. It's an acquired taste."

"I find it difficult to believe that anyone could ever acquire a taste for leola casserole." Seven's expression attested to the sincerity of her statement.

"You may be right," Harry conceded. "Why are you standing in line, Doc? You aren't waiting for food."

The Doctor lifted his holo-imager. "I intend to record this event for the ship's history. You were correct, Ensign, when you said this is a special occasion." He frowned as Carey walked by with a tray heaped to almost overflowing. "And I want to get an idea of how many cases of indigestion to expect."

Seven looked at him with puzzlement. "I fail to see why this should be an occasion for over-indulgence."

Harry said, "Are you kidding? It’s human nature, Seven. It’s the first time since we came to the Delta quadrant that we’ve been able to use the replicators without worrying about rations. I’ll bet you anything that Ayala orders enough to feed the entire Security department."

The Doctor added, "I’ve already laid in an extra supply of antacids."

The Captain and the Commander walked up to them, carrying their trays of food. They had opted for Italian, including a loaf of garlic bread. "Come join us when you’re ready," Chakotay invited. "Tom and B’Elanna have staked out one of the large tables."

At that moment, Aea shimmered into being, smiling radiantly. She was back in the Greek costume, but Seven noted that its neckline had been lowered, and one side of the skirt now sported a thigh-high slit. "It’s so nice to have company again." Her happy expression wilted abruptly. "What is that smell?"

"It must be the garlic," the Captain said, lifting her tray so that the aroma from the pasta wafted upwards. "Isn’t it wonderful?" With a smile, she and the Commander headed off for the table.

Aea watched them, frowning. "What is garlic? Is it in all your food?"

Before Harry could respond, Seven answered quickly. "Garlic is an important nutritional supplement for humans. It helps regulate blood cholesterol. Review the medical files from our ship. I believe it is commonly used in foods."

"Not all of them," Harry added when he saw the look of horror growing in Aea’s face.

The Doctor looked at the librarian enviously. "I didn’t realize that you had olfactory capability."

"It is part of my environmental sensors." She studied Kim speculatively. "Will you be ordering a dish with garlic, Ensign Harry?"

Realizing that its odor must be offensive to her, he assured her, "No, I was planning on something else – something simple" –

"Ensign Kim will be having chicken curry," Seven said. "I plan to order mixed fruit with Limburger cheese."

"I am not familiar with those recipes, but they sound acceptable." Aea turned to her, and smiled brightly. "Seven, dear, you have some lint on your shoulder. Oh, no, I see it's not lint after all. You may want to consider wearing light-colored clothing, it conceals the dandruff better. I’ll see you later, Ensign."

Harry rounded on Seven. "Why did you do that? Can’t you see that she doesn’t like strong smells?"

"That is perfectly obvious."

"Then why?"

"I see no reason to ingratiate ourselves to her." Seven's eyes were troubled. "On the contrary, I believe we should use every opportunity to convince her she would not enjoy our company on a long-term basis."

The Doctor looked at her shrewdly. "You don’t like her, do you?"

The former Borg lifted her chin with the slightest hint of defensiveness. " ‘Like’ is irrelevant. I do not trust her."  
*

"That's it, then." Chakotay looked up from the monitor. "The assignments for 'Project Great Library' and logged and posted."

After dinner, they had returned to their quarters to finalize the assignments. Some were easy: B'Elanna, Harry and Tom, the most knowledgeable holo-programmers on board, were given responsibility for creating the companion for Aea. A combination of Engineering and Security personnel, under the direction of Tuvok and Neelix, would perform the environmental maintenance Aea requested. The most debated assignment was that of the team to provide the computer maintenance. In the end, they agreed that as long as Aea remained friendly, there was no reason that she, Seven and the Baby Brigade shouldn't take that task. It was not physically strenuous work, and as it happened, it fell within the talents of most of the Brigade.

"I want you out of there at the first sign of trouble," he said again. "Aea seems harmless, but she's got a great deal of power."

Kathryn didn't bother to mention that, given that power, they probably wouldn't be any safer on the ship than on the Library. "Agreed. And I want you to keep tabs on the structural engineering team. This is the best chance we've got for them to finish our quarters without interruption."

He looked around. "I don't know, I'm getting used to this open-air look."

She managed half a smile, then stood and stretched uncomfortably, hands on the small of her back. "Tired?" Chakotay asked.

"Stiff. My back has hurt all day."

He came behind her and began to gently knead her neck and shoulders. "You’re tense. Are you more worried than you than you appear?"

With a sigh, she made a conscious effort to relax. "How can I not be worried? But we’ll come out of this fine if Aea keeps her end of the bargain."

His hands slid lower, found the muscle spasm in her lower back. "Do you trust her?"

"Oh, yeah, there." Her eyes closed in bliss. "Trust her? The same way I trust a Romulan."

He smiled at that. It was a Starfleet axiom – 'trust a Romulan to have a hidden agenda.' "You know," he said casually, "it wouldn’t hurt if you took a couple of days off. You haven’t slept well in weeks and your blood pressure is up" –

She shook her head but didn’t move away or open her eyes. "Uh-uh. It will be worse if I’m not occupied. Oh, do that again. You’ve got good hands."

Smiling, he circled his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her neck. "I could show you how good," he offered softly.

"Oh, yeah?" She leaned against him contentedly. "Would you rub my feet?"

"Absolutely."

"Hmmm. Rub my legs?"

"With pleasure. In fact," he moved his mouth against her ear and lowered his voice to a warm whisper, "I'll rub you anywhere it feels good ---"

"Captain, I need to speak with you!" Aea’s voice cut shrilly through their quarters.

Kathryn and Chakotay jumped apart like guilty teenagers. "I thought we had an agreement about privacy," Kathryn said in undisguised annoyance. Part of the deal was that Aea would not listen in on any conversations on _Voyager_. She might not be able to take form on the ship, but her link with the computer cores made eavesdropping very possible.

"I announced myself, didn’t I? Captain, Commander, I need to speak with you on a matter of utmost importance."

Kathryn looked at her husband, a 'what-now?' look. "Go ahead."

"MY COMMISSARY IS NOT A PIGSTY!"

Wincing from the increase in decibel levels, Chakotay said mildly, "It was cleaned after dinner. I checked it myself."

"Then your standards of cleanliness and order need to be raised," Aea informed him. Her voice was filled with wounded righteousness. "I have downloaded my precise requirements to your database. These apply to all areas where maintenance is performed as well as the commissary. Please provide them to your cleaning crew."

"I’ll see to it." Chakotay tried to keep his smile out of his voice.

"Thank you," Aea said with great dignity. "Good night, then."

They stood still for a moment, trying to confirm that they were alone again. Then they began to laugh.

"Of all the computers in all the quadrant," Kathryn said between giggles, "we had to find the one who's more obsessive than Seven."

Still smiling, Chakotay held out his hand. "Let’s go to bed." Arms around each other, they went through the open door frame into the bedroom.  
*

Work in the Library began in earnest in the morning, and before the day was over, Kathryn knew that she and Chakotay had been optimistic in their estimate of time required to complete their tasks. Aea's exacting standards greatly slowed the environmental teams supervised by Neelix. It was the work on the computer itself, though, that was significantly more time-consuming than expected.

The hardware maintenance was slowed by the complexity of the Drehada symbology. Much of it was beyond the scope of _Voyager's_ universal translator. When not even Seven's Borg database could crack it, Kathryn called for Aea.

She shimmered into existence wearing a long, form-fitting dress of deep blue and smiling radiantly. Her long hair was suddenly raven, except for a silver lock. "Section 1 of Deck 12 is so clean, Captain. You have no idea how good that feels."

"I'm glad." She paused, distracted by Aea's altered appearance and wondering what database on Voyager had supplied that particular image.

"We require a translation matrix for this language." Even for Seven of Nine, her tone was peremptory, even rude. Kathryn shot her a look of warning.

Aea bristled. "You require a lesson in courtesy. When asking for a favor, one should at least be polite."

"I apologize," Kathryn said hastily, and ignored the look of affront in Seven's eyes. "Seven spent many years among the Borg. She is still learning how to interact with other life forms in a less … aggressive manner."

"The Borg." Aea sniffed. "I have heard of them, from the Frandorii ships. They sound quite rude."

"That's one word for them."

"Well. I suppose she can't be held entirely at fault." Aea tossed a quick, contemptuous glance at Seven, and then turned back to Janeway. "Do you need a translation matrix, Captain?"

"It would be extremely helpful."

Aea smiled. "It has been downloaded to your ship. Your translator should be able to access it now. If there's nothing else, Captain, I would like to focus my attention on the cleaning crews."

"Of course. Thank you." And please, Neelix, be diplomatic. Aea vanished.

"Captain," Seven protested, "I object to being the subject of discussion when I am present. And I do not understand why you would apologize for me. I did nothing inappropriate."

She turned. "Seven, we cannot afford to antagonize A'Aea. The two of you obviously rub each other the wrong way, and in our present situation that is dangerous. I want you to go out of your way to be courteous to her, and if you can't be courteous then stay away from her."

"Understood. But I will not grovel."

Kathryn's voice dropped in both pitch and temperature. "Yes, you will. If it is necessary for the safety of the ship, you will drop to your knees and acknowledge her as queen of the Drehada, and you will convince her that you mean it. Am I quite clear?"

Seven's shoulders tightened. "Quite."  
*

Harry, Tom and B’Elanna were having fun. Aea had been specific about the appearance of the new hologram; the challenge, then, was to determine its purpose. That purpose would dictate the rest of the programming. Given their time constraints, it could not be anything as complex as the Doctor, but they still had a large range of options.

Harry was taking the assignment very seriously. "I want him to enjoy environmental maintenance. He needs to help keep this place clean."

"A janitor?" Tom scoffed. "We can do better than that. She wants someone to keep her company, right? How about a poet, or an actor?"

Harry frowned. "In a library? That doesn’t seem right. Aea needs someone who can help her – a good reference librarian, maybe."

Tom looked at his friend in disgust. "Where’s your imagination? This is going to be your doppelganger, Harry. Your chance to live out your secret fantasies. What have you always wanted to be?"

The ensign flushed, immediately capturing the attention of his three friends. "Well, I’m no good at it, but I always kind of wished … I mean, I would have liked…"

"Out with it, Starfleet," B’Elanna urged.

"I wanted to be a dancer."

Tom and B'Elanna leaned back, speechless.  
*

By the next day, Seven had gained experience in both diplomacy and restraining her emotions. Once the hardware maintenance was done, the computer team moved on to updating several databases and indices. Seven was given the task of re-cataloging and cross-indexing the star charts database, and then choosing the charts to download to Voyager. The database held charts ranging in age from 10,000 to 2,000 years old and covering more than half the quadrant.

"I do not understand," Seven said with a frown, the first time she opened the directory. "What is the logic of this index?"

Aea, standing beside her in her blue silk dress, smiled with the faintest hint of malice. "Alphabetically – Drehada alphabet, of course – by cartographer."

She looked at the hologram for 5.3 seconds, during which time several comments came to mind. It would have been extremely satisfying to tell Aea that her system was inefficient and her vaunted Drehada must have died out from a lack of coherent thought patterns, but she let the words fade in her mind without speaking. The Captain's orders had been clear.

Seven set about her task quietly, researching each cartographer to place them in their proper time and then piecing together the charts to determine the correct location within the quadrant. She wondered if the Captain and the rest of the Baby Brigade were occupied in such tedious work.

Aea stopped by again the next day. "Are you making any progress, dear? I know this was a challenge for you."

The condescending tone grated on Seven's nerves, but she remained calm. "It is slow work, but it is progressing." She lifted a mug of hot, aromatic liquid.

"What – oh – is that garlic?"

"Yes, it is garlic soup." Seven smiled at her. "I require sustenance."

The hologram's face was contorted with disgust. An hour later, Captain Janeway informed all work crews that Aea required all food and beverages to be restricted to the commissary.  
*

Two days later, Seven was still at her station on level 18, sorting star charts; she had decided to forgo regeneration in order to complete this onerous task as soon as possible. The alcove in which she worked was on the same level as the docking bay and the commissary but on the opposite side of each. She preferred this station, as it was also the Library’s version of the Astrometrics Lab, housing its scanning functions and long-range sensors. A view screen provided a view of the nebula.

The endless motion of the gaseous matter was oddly soothing and a good counterbalance to the frustration of Drehada illogic. She had to admit, though, they left detailed star charts. Even allowing for stellar drift over time, the data was invaluable.

Suddenly an alarm sounded, and even as Seven turned to see what it was, Aea appeared and stood near the view screen. She was wearing her most outrageous outfit yet – a dress of pink chiffon, covered with crystal beads and a hoop skirt that was probably four feet in diameter. A tall, crystal crown topped her curled auburn hair. "What is happening?" Seven asked.

"Two B’Lm ships have entered my nebula," Aea said coolly. "Here, I’ll show you." The view screen suddenly shifted from a real time view of the nebula to a tactical schematic. Seven immediately recognized two B’Lm ships, the same size as the ones that attacked Voyager the previous month.

"I must tell the Captain," Seven said urgently, "and you must permit Voyager to disengage so we can defend this place if necessary."

"Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’ve taken care of it."

And almost immediately, the schematic showed one of the ships exploding.

Seven stared at the screen. "What did you do?"

"I initiated its self-destruct sequence. Not very imaginative, but nonetheless effective."

"But…" Seven turned slowly to her. "There were 100 people on that ship. They were not yet a threat to you."

"They are B’Lm." Aea frowned. "The other ship is not leaving. Let’s be a little more creative this time – a feedback loop to the primary EPS manifold, perhaps?"

"This is wrong." Seven felt increasingly desperate. "That ship has not threatened you. There may be no need to destroy it."

Aea just smiled, a hard joyless smile that for some reason was more frightening than any scowl or frown. "It’s begun."

In a desperate lunge, Seven extended her tubules and attempted to access the controls on the computer station. The instant she made connection, a surge of energy shot upward just as before. This time, though, the energy was far stronger and more intense, and Seven’s entire body was engulfed in it. When the output finally stopped, Seven twitched and fell to the floor.

Aea looked down at her. "You persist in being rude." With a flick of her hair over her shoulders, she disappeared in a bubble of light.

Barely conscious, Seven tried to access her commbadge, but she had fallen on it and couldn’t seem to muster the strength to roll over. From somewhere, she found enough reserves to try to inch toward the door of the alcove before she lost consciousness.  
*

On level 12, work on the holographic companion was just about done. They previewed him for Aea, who laughed delightedly. "He will do."

"Good," B’Elanna said. "Then all we have to do is permanently install him."

The pleasure fled from Aea’s face. "I would have to allow you access to my main core."

B’Elanna looked at her in surprise. "Surely you realized that before now."

The computer suddenly seemed as shy as a child. "I haven’t let anyone touch my core for 2,000 years. Any biological life form that has access to my core could delete me."

Harry said, "Aea, you know us now. You know we wouldn’t do that to you."

"I want you to do it, Harry. I trust you."

He looked to B’Elanna, who shrugged. "You don’t really need my help, Starfleet. Go ahead." She tossed a grin to Tom. "How about we celebrate with some food? We" – she patted her large belly - are hungry."

They left Harry to his task, and headed for the commissary. The lift from level 12 brought them to far side of level 18, so they had to walk past several sections to reach their destination. "I'm so slow," B'Elanna complained as they ambled down the corridor. "A duck waddles faster than I do these days."

"It's not like we're in a hurry." Tom left the 'waddle' reference alone. B'Elanna was waddling, but he knew better than to agree. And trying to deny it made her even angrier.

"You know what I want most of all? I want to see my feet again." She grinned at him. "I can feel them, so I know they're there, but for all I know you could have painted them red and blue."

"Darn it, I told Harry to use green and yellow. Better let me take a look."

"Tom-"

"No, wait a minute just let me see…" He bent down, pretending to look at her feet, but then he froze. "Seven?"

"I have seven feet?" B'Elanna was genuinely confused for a moment, but then she saw what he did. A hand with a Borg implant reached out of an alcove.

Tom knelt beside the unconscious figure and scanned her with the tricorder that had been his constant companion since B'Elanna entered her third trimester. The results caused him to catch his breath, and he hit his commbadge. "Medical emergency." The transporters were still disabled, so they were going to have to wait for Security to arrive with a gurney.

Looking at Seven’s pale face, he hoped they would hurry.  
*

Later that night, Kathryn Janeway sat in the dimly lit commissary. "A’Aea," she said quietly. "I’d like to talk to you."

The computer’s image shimmered into existence with its characteristic rainbow. With a bright smile, Aea sat opposite Kathryn. She was wearing the black velvet outfit that Kathryn thought of as the ‘Morgan-le-Fey’ dress. "You’re up late, Captain."

"I’ve spent the last few hours in Sickbay. Seven of Nine was badly hurt tonight."

Aea did not flinch. "She is alive, then?"

"Yes." Kathryn did not elaborate. Seven had been clinically dead when she arrived in Sickbay, but the Doctor had been able to get her heart started again before any permanent damage could occur. She was in a coma and suffering from energy burns that required extended treatment, but for the time being the Doctor felt it was more important to regenerate her Borg implants before attempting any further treatment of her tissue injuries. "What happened to her?"

"She attempted to exceed her authorization," Aea said coolly.

Even two years earlier, it would have been easy to believe that. Seven had learned a great deal about the chain of command and respecting authority in her time on Voyager, though. There had to be more to the story. "How did she attempt to exceed her authority?"

Aea’s face began to shape into a pout. "I don’t have to tell you."

"No, you don’t. But I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. What if someone else repeats Seven’s error?"

Two seconds passed, an eternity for a computer. "She tried to interfere with my self-defense program."

"I didn’t know you had a self-defense program. You told us you have no weapons. Perhaps Seven didn’t understand."

"She understood. She was just being spiteful. She doesn’t like me, you know. She brought garlic soup to my alcoves. Then she tried to stop me from eliminating the B’Lm ship."

Kathryn froze, managing to conceal her true reaction to Aea’s statement. "I see. Were the B’Lm posing a threat?"

"They were B’Lm," Aea said, as if that should be sufficient explanation. Then she leaned forward. "Captain, I do not understand why you are expending so many resources and so much concern for one individual."

"Seven is part of my crew." Part of Kathryn's mind was already racing, trying to devise a plan to get _Voyager_ away safely and as soon as possible. "We look after our own."

Aea shook her head. "It was a maxim of the Drehada that the welfare of the community is always more important than the welfare of the individual. There is a similar axiom in your database – the good of the many outweighs the good of the few, or the one."

"That’s true, and it is a guideline we use often in time of danger, to help make decisions. But it has a corollary, Aea. Let me put it in terms of simple arithmetic: if the value of one life is nothing, then what is the value of 100 lives?"

"Zero times any number is zero."

"Yes. And therefore the individual must be valued in order for the community to have value."

Aea lifted her chin, possibly from pride, possibly in challenge. "You think I was in error to destroy the B’Lm."

"I don’t know," Kathryn replied honestly. "It’s not what I would have done but I don’t have your history with the B’Lm. It’s not my place to judge you. I think it’s best, though, if _Voyager_ leaves tomorrow. Harry tells me your companion is installed and operational, and we should finish our cataloging and downloads by 1300."

Aea’s eyes grew huge. "So soon?" she asked, sounding almost childlike.

"That was our bargain."

"So it was." The image appeared sorrowful, almost despondent. "Good night, Captain."  
*

At 1137 hours, the environmental team was making one last sweep through the Library to be certain Aea would be pleased with their efforts. The Baby Brigade was rushing to finish the last of their cataloging and downloading tasks. Janeway enlisted B’Elanna to help her finish the star charts left unfinished by Seven.

Kathryn felt in need of help that morning. She had not slept at all; the baby had seemed to turn somersaults all night and she was worried about Seven, and Aea, and _Voyager_. Even worse than that, though, was the way her back ached and spasmed. Chakotay wanted her to go to the Doctor, but she decided to wait until they were safely on their way.

To top it all off, the movement of the nebula which Seven had found soothing was making Kathryn sick again. _Fine captain I am, space sick from looking out the window._ B’Elanna took the console nearest the view screen so that Janeway didn’t have to look at it.

Coffee. She craved a cup of coffee – just enough to clear the cobwebs that seemed to be sticking to her thoughts that morning. Instead she was making do with a cup of peppermint tea, which she brought to the alcove despite Aea’s prohibitions. She needed it to settle her stomach.

At 1138 hours, Chakotay and Paris walked into the alcove. "Reporting as ordered," Chakotay said cheerfully.

Kathryn looked at him blankly. "What?"

He stiffened. "You didn’t send for us?"

"No." A sudden hunch caused her to ask, "Who else?"

"All the Baby Brigade partners." Tom looked at her uneasily. We’re supposed to join you all for lunch. And" –

"Harry," Janeway said flatly. They both nodded.

"What the" – B’Elanna cried out suddenly. "_Voyager’s_ disengaging from the docking bay!"

The other three immediately came to the view screen, which had flipped over to the tactical schematic. There was no doubt that _Voyager_ had released its docking clamps and was backing away from the station.

"A’Aea!" Kathryn demanded loudly.

The image appeared immediately, dressed this time in her Greek costume. "You don’t need to shout. Kathryn, did you bring food here? You know that’s against the rules."

"Bother your rules," Kathryn snarled. "Get my ship back here."

Aea shook her head. "Careful, your blood pressure is rising."

Using the Command Voice, every muscle tense, Kathryn repeated, "Get my ship back here."

"I don’t think so."

Chakotay said angrily, "We had a bargain. We did what we promised."

"You did indeed. And so did I. Your ship was repaired, wasn’t it? The thing is, I’ve decided to keep you."

Tom’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, keep us?"

She walked about the room, smiling happily. "You’ve all done such a fine job, and you’re so much fun. I’ve decided to keep you indefinitely as my maintenance crew."

B’Elanna growled, "I’ll rip your circuits out, you arrogant piece of electronic targ dip!"

"B’Elanna." Tom touched her arm. "Calm down."

Chakotay took a step toward Aea. "Why are you sending the ship away? You could keep all of us on the station and leave _Voyager_ here."

She looked at him as if dealing with a child who was not quite able to understand adult words. "Commander, we both know that as long as the ship is here you’ll try to leave. I can’t have that. But don’t worry; I won’t let it wander aimlessly. It's too nice a ship for that. I'm going to send it safe distance and I'll blow it up."

"There are still a hundred people on board," Tom tried desperately. "You know them, Aea. You can’t want to destroy them."

"I am sorry about that, but they’ll just try to come back for you. We don’t need them, you see. We’ll be our own community, right here."

Kathryn went rigid. "Not my crew," she said in a low, deadly voice. "Not my ship." Then she gasped as a contraction struck her with full force, and she doubled over. As her hands flew around her middle, one hand knocked her cup to the floor. The mug shattered, and tea spilled everywhere.

"Look what you’ve done!" Aea exclaimed, but no one paid attention to her.

Tom dashed over with the medical tricorder while Chakotay supported Kathryn, and looked up with a startled expression on his face. "Captain, you are going to have a baby."

She glared at him. "I know that, Mister."

"No, I mean you are going to have it right now." He looked at Aea. "We really need the Doctor. I’ve never done this before, and it shouldn't be happening this fast. You have to bring the ship back."

Aea just looked at them crossly. "You’re trying to trick me. It won’t work. Clean up that mess! What are you doing?"

Kathryn gasped again as another contraction grabbed her. She felt something odd, and looked in amazement toward the floor.

Aea wrinkled her nose. "Yuck. What is that – that fluid?"

"Oh, boy," Tom muttered. "Her water’s broken." He checked the tricorder again. "I don’t think we have time to get anywhere else."

"This is a trick," Aea insisted angrily.

Paris looked at her. "Just stay out of the way," he snapped. He looked apologetically at the Captain and the Commander. "I'm afraid you’re stuck with a medic with just simulator experience." He and Chakotay helped Kathryn to the floor and removed the obstructing clothing, then hit his commbadge. "Paris to Kim." When there was no immediate response, he glared at Aea.

"Oh, all right," she said huffily.

Tom rattled off a list of supplies for Harry to bring and then knelt down to examine Kathryn. He let out puff of breath. "Okay. Okay. You're in the final stage of labor, Captain. I don't know why it's happening this fast, but it won't be long now."

Chakotay braced her from behind, supporting her back as another contraction hit. Aea said firmly, "I want you to stop this nonsense and clean up my Library. Clean it up now!"

"Stand back," B’Elanna told her, awkwardly lowering herself to the floor to sit beside Kathryn. "It’s going to get a lot messier before it’s over. Check your files – this is childbirth."

Frowning, Aea stepped back and watched as for the next four minutes, Kathryn pushed, using Chakotay as a backstop with B’Elanna holding one hand and Tom giving instructions. In a brief interval, Kathryn, already drenched with sweat, said hoarsely, "It wasn’t supposed to be like this."

Chakotay knew what she meant. Their child was supposed to be born in _Voyager’s_ Sickbay, with the Doctor delivering and with plenty of painkillers available. They had never imagined an emergency delivery on a cold floor away from the ship. "Nothing about this baby has been what it was supposed to be," he said, half in jest and half in frustration.

"Faith," Kathryn gasped as the uncontrollable urge to push seized her. "We …have…to ...have …faith."

"Almost there," Tom encouraged. "Just a couple more."

Kathryn closed one hand in a death grip over B’Elanna’s, the other crushed Chakotay’s. With a single great cry, she put all her strength into one more push.

"Here she comes," Tom shouted in excitement. "Once more, Kathryn, just once more!" and she drew on all the resources she had left and pushed one more time before falling back against her husband, exhausted.

"Oh," Tom said, looking in awe at the baby in his hands, "Look at her. She’s perfect." He lifted the infant so the parents could see her. "Kathryn, Chakotay, meet your daughter."

Tears in their eyes, they looked at the tiny thing with a shock of dark hair and large, dark eyes. "Oh," Kathryn said quietly, and leaned her head back against Chakotay’s chest. He pressed a kiss to her temple, not taking his eyes from the baby.

"It’s so small." Aea's nose wrinkled. "When will it be functional?"

B’Elanna was smiling with pure joy. "Not for several years."

Aea frowned.

Harry arrived with the supplies Tom had requested, but more or less skidded to a stop when he reached the alcove. This was just too personal a scene for his presence. He tried to help Tom without looking at anyone.

Paris cleaned the baby after checking her out. "Ten fingers, ten toes, everything in the right place." The baby began to cry loudly. "Good lungs, too." When he handed her to Kathryn, his eyes were misty. "I’d say that is one very lucky little girl."

Kathryn tore her eyes from the crying baby to look at Aea. "_Voyager_," she said guiltily, ashamed that she could have forgotten about her ship and crew, even for an instant.

Aea was looking at the baby in dismay. "Is it always this loud? And this messy?"

Sensing an opportunity, B’Elanna replied quickly, "Sometimes it’s louder. Wait until my turn – I’m having two."

For a moment Aea froze, as if her processors were unable to handle this information. Then she blinked. Aea did. "And there are ten more of you in the Library now who are about to do this?"

They all nodded.

"Totally unacceptable." Aea sighed. "I have recalled your ship. I want you all to leave before this happens again. This is a library, not a pigsty. I might have become accustomed to your garlic and your curry, but this – this is too much." With a toss of her head, she vanished.

Kathryn caught a great gulp of air, uncertain whether she was about to laugh or cry. She settled for leaning her head back against Chakotay’s shoulder. All that mattered that _Voyager_ was safe and her baby was safe.

"So, what’s her name?" Tom asked.

The new parents looked at one another. They had never actually settled that point. Although both had thought of the child as ‘Lucky’ throughout the pregnancy, they agreed that was not appropriate for her formal name. Chakotay smiled suddenly, and looked at Kathryn. "She told us her name, remember?"

Kathryn looked at him in surprise. Lucky had been firm in not revealing her name.

"In the shuttle bay, that last time. Remember? She told us to" –

"To have faith," Kathryn recalled. Then she smiled. "Faith."  
*

_Voyager_ did not dock when it returned; Chakotay did not want to take a chance on Aea changing her mind. True to her promise, though, Aea restored all functions to the ship, and apologized to it for her ‘rudeness.’ The Baby Brigade returned by shuttle, except for Kathryn and Faith, who beamed directly to Sickbay. As soon as the Doctor gave them both a clean bill of health, Chakotay returned to the Library with Paris. There was one more task to complete: introducing Aea to her new companion.

Tom could not have looked prouder if he were introducing his own child. "Aea, meet Fred."

With barely a flicker, Fred appeared before them. He looked remarkably like Harry, but he was taller and leaner. He wore classic tails and a top hat and carried a mop. "Hello," he said. His voice was not like Harry’s at all. Fred was definitely a tenor, with a reedy quality.

"Hello, Fred," Tom replied. "I wonder if you can help me out. We were debating the size of this nebula."

"According to the Encyclopedia Drehadarum, the Great Drehal Nebula is seven billion square helars, as established by Voracal the Navigator in 9873 D.C.C. - Drehada Common Calendar. He –"

"Thanks, that helps." Paris grinned at the Commander. "Definitely a reference librarian."

A’Aea frowned. "I do not need assistance with the Library."

Fred turned and saw her. His expression became awestruck. "Oh, my."

His obvious adoration seemed to mollify A’Aea. "What else do you do, Fred? Do you know how to use that mop?"

"Dear lady, I can work magic with this mop. May I show you?"

As they watched, Fred began swabbing the floor with the implement, but he wasn’t merely swishing it around. He danced with it, using it as if it were his partner. Chakotay watched his graceful, athletic movements with admiration.

A’Aea smiled.

Then Fred handed the mop to Tom and took A’Aea into his arms. He began to sing, "Heaven, I’m in heaven…" They swayed to his song, and then he suddenly twirled her about, their bodies pressed together in perfect synchronization.

Chakotay couldn't help smiling as he watched them. They were lovely to look at, a well-matched couple. He only hoped that Fred would keep Aea's attention off passing ships for a while. Aea's intentions were not evil, but her morality was definitely different from theirs.

He cleared his throat. "It's time for us to say goodbye."

The couple stopped dancing, and Aea faced him, without letting go of Fred. "Goodbye? Yes, that is one of your customs. How is it done?"

In spite of everything, he rather liked Aea. "With a few sincere phrases. I hope our stay was not too inconvenient."

She decided to be dignified and gracious; he could see it in the way her features intentionally settled into an expression worthy of a reigning monarch. "It was entertaining. I shall contemplate your philosophy for some time, although I still think you over-value the B'Lm. And … you have given me a very acceptable companion." She smiled at Fred, who stared at her rapturously. "They are leaving, Fred."

He barely acknowledged their presence. "Goodbye." He raised A’Aea’s hand to his lips for a flirtatious kiss.

"Definitely acceptable." A’Aea tore her gaze away from Fred and back to Chakotay and Paris. "You are an interesting people, but your method of replication is quite repellant and your affinity for garlic is incomprehensible. Perhaps you will evolve. I wish you good journey, Commander Chakotay. I have given you star charts which should guide you safely out of my nebula."

"Thank you." He shot Tom a sideways glance; Aea had a knack for clothing a sincere good wish in an insult. "The Captain sends her best wishes also, Aea.

"Chakotay to _Voyager_. Two to beam out."

The last thing Paris and Chakotay saw as they beamed out of the Great Library of the Drehada was A’Aea, suddenly wearing a red evening gown with feathers on the skirt and matching pumps with four-inch heels, waltzing with Fred across the commissary floor.

Epilogue

Two weeks later, Kathryn sat at the table in their quarters. "Kathryn, come to bed," Chakotay said softly as he went into their bedroom. "You'll wake Faith."

"I won't be long. Computer, open personal log."

"Working."

"Personal Log, stardate [yawn]. Computer, insert correct stardate and note time – 0255 hours. It has been a busy day. We cleared the Great Nebula during beta shift tonight; Aea's maps allowed us to travel at warp 6 for the past two weeks, and it appears that we have finally left the Disputed Territories behind us. We'll be relying on ancient Drehada charts for a while, until we make contact with a friendly civilization.

The last of the Baby Brigade babies finally arrived. An hour ago, Owen and Kim Paris were born. Mother and babies are doing well – possibly better than the father, who seems to be a bit overwhelmed by it all. In the end, the Lenash reconciliation ceremony resulted in an increase to Voyager’s crew of 7 boys and six girls, including the twins.

"Seeing the pride on Tom’s face as he held his children reminded me of the pride I used to see on Owen’s face when he spoke of Tom. And thoughts of Owen led to thoughts of home. I had a quick flash of my first debriefing when we get back, as I try to explain how it came to be that we returned with a former Borg drone, a Talaxian cook, a sentient EMH, a ship with an ‘incipient personality’ as well as a new interior design, 13 children all roughly the same age and the Maquis renegade I was sent to bring in, but oh, by the way, he happens to be my husband now.

"I hope someone in the Admiralty has a sense of humor."

"Kathryn, come to bed. Jenson's team will be here in two hours."

[Yawn.] "Coming. Computer, end entry."

-the end-

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 1999-2000, inspired by some different things. In the Voyager fanfiction world, I had seen a rash of stories in which Kathryn and Chakotay had a baby - or twins - with no thought about the implications of it. And in both my personal and professional life, I found myself dealing with multiple issues related to pregnancy, infertility, adoption, surrogacy and abortion. The latter was definitely a controversial subject then, but not nearly as polarizing as it is today. My goal was to write a story that provoked thought yet still was interesting. Reading it now, I see its many flaws, but honestly, I had so much fun envisioning A'Aea that I decided to post it here.


End file.
